


Finding A Goddess

by GingerSaint



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Avenger Loki, Established Chris Hemsworth/Tom Hiddleston, F/M, Good Loki, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Loki Has Issues, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki-centric, Other, POV Tom Hiddleston, Poor Loki, Warning: Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3534752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerSaint/pseuds/GingerSaint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Hiddleston is known as one of the most popular and sought after acting talents in the realm of movie stars. He spends much of his time reading scripts and when he finds one he likes, asking his manager to submit him for the role. A new screenplay by a bestselling, New York Times author comes available and upon reading the script he decides he wants the lead role. Having been astounded by the talent of the author he begins to research the talent behind the work. He finds far more than he ever could have hoped for. Deciding to take matters into his own hands he arranges to meet her; it will set into motion a cascade of events no one could ever have foreseen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding A Goddess

**Author's Note:**

> Note: All celebrity/franchise characters do not in any part belong to me nor do the images on the cover.  
> The Creative Content, story and graphic designs belong entirely to me.

FINDING THE GODDESS 

A Tom Hiddleston/Loki Fanfiction Romance

by Ginger Saint

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER ONE...STRUGGLE

It had been a year since I had moved to England. I'd fled the desperation and despair of America with the fires of civil rebellion hot on my heels; or so it seemed to me. A beautiful flat within view of the London Eye that could take your breath and make you dream was what I called home. When I'd left I had vowed to START over, taking only what would fit in two suitcases and a small trunk with me. 

My neighborhood was friendly and full of life. The huge market that was as much an adventure as a necessity was walking distance and I indulged myself there regularly. My neighbor Nita and her cute daughter May often accompanied me and we'd all become great friends. 

Strong success as a published author had FINANCED my move here and now I had an offer on a screenplay I'd written. A rather large Indie production company and one of the major studios were bidding for the rights to it. My decision would be for the one who offered me the most control over my script and creative rights. 

It was hot today. Not in the way most people think of it; there was a heavy presence of moisture in the air. It always heralded one of the ever-looming rainstorms so prevalent in London. It was one of my favourite things about England, all the rain and clouds. I made a habit of walking in the rain. It felt like those sometimes warm-sometimes chilling drops washed clean all the sins and secrets that lie on my shoulders. It allowed me to breathe without the taint of regret perfuming every breath I took. 

Soaking wet I shrugged off my Macintosh and hung it up in the mudroom to dry; next came the wet rain boots and last of all the soggy scarf. My long, red hair resembled thick, copper yarn; similar to what you might find on a doll more than a human head of hair. It was going to be a long, painstaking process to get that mop into order. 

Sighing I ran myself a hot shower. Patchouli, clary sage and mandarin filled the room as I lit my candles. Stepping under the wonderfully hot, powerful stream, I let the water pound away the tiny aches that came with overindulging myself in cold, rainy jaunts. 

I had just STARTED to relax and find my 'Zen' when the phone shrilled. The ringtone, Vanity let me know that it was my agent ringing me up. This was the call I'd been waiting on. Cursing and hopping around in my towel I made it to my cell before the call ended. 

"Hello" out of breath and sniffling shampoo out of my nose I greeted my agent Carlysle. There was a warm chuckle on the other end and a brief pause before I got a reply. 

"Catch you out Salamander?" Carlysle quipped. It was his nickname for me because of my red hair and fiery nature. "I've got some news for you that might help you make your decision on the production companies. But...I can always call you back..." 

I cut him off before he could finish. "Don't you dare. You hang up on me right now and I swear I'll have your brassies hanging off my bedpost by morning." I growled a bit as soap ran into my eyes. 

Another laugh burst from him; a regular barrel of flat laughs that one was. 

"Well, we have interest from a fairly famous actor signed with the one Pro company. He's a bit old for the part but doesn't look it. Solid background and a sure bankroll at the cinemas" Carlysle drew out the suspense as long as he dared. My sub vocal growl of irritation must have warned him he had a toe on my tolerance line. 

"Ehm, yes well...anyhow," he continued, rushing now. "Tom Hiddleston has expressed an interest in the male lead for your screenplay. He'd like to meet with you, get your feelings on the matter, and sound you out on where you're coming from with this story. If he's accepted the production, company has agreed to let you have majority say in the lines and casting. That was what you were looking for right?" 

My heart dropped to my stomach...well in truth somewhere a lot lower and more physically responsive to that statement. I'd never dreamed of that happening. My admiration for this actor had started with his early work in Shakespeare and in point of fact, it had taken me two viewings of Thor to match him to the actor who'd so brilliantly portrayed Shakespeare's Henry. 

"He apologizes for the short notice," my agent said into the dead silence. "But he's got a special performance in a local play tonight...one Coriolanus by name. It's a 'by invite only' show and he'd like to send round a ticket and car for you this evening. It's formal dress and a cast party after. What do you say" Carlysle waited patiently. He knew my answer already. I'd penned the lead role with Thomas W. in mind never dreaming I'd catch him for it! 

"Well..." I hedged, a small payback for his earlier torments. Letting the silence draw out to the breaking point, (I could hear his nails drumming on his desk), "I suppose there's just enough time for me to get ready. But please inform him I'll drive myself and he can leave my ticket at will-call." I grinned to myself. So much for Tom's assumptions of my availability and Mr. Hiddleston's high handed offer for tonight. 

Carlysle humphed. It was after all one of his favourite sounds of displeasure. "Well alright I'll pass that along. Though why you'd want to drive yourself when you could have a limo..." 

I interrupted him again. "...and a pack of rabid fans wondering who I was and why I was there; not to mention I like to be able to leave somewhere when the urge hits me. A few minutes later all the business was done and we rang off. I checked the clock, its little Cheshire cat smile smugly informing me I had just over an hour to get ready. 

"Great," I thought to myself with sour emotion. "My hair alone takes nearly 45 minutes to dry with the blower. Guess I'll be wearing it down tonight. At just past my butt cheeks it was a handful on the best of days; in a hurry and down, partially wet? Welll let's just say Tom had better give a damn good performance and tally up for drinks after. It was exciting though, Coriolanus had always been one of my favourites of the Bard's plays. 

Okay...off to my closet. What did I have that said gala by grudging agreement? Not the green tulle, too sweet and girly...lavender pantsuit? No too casual. Ahhh there it was, just the thing. I'd never even taken the tags off. Floor length vintage velvet reminiscent of Bacall flowed around my body in shimmering tones of indigo and midnight blue. It was a classic with a small, crystal belt and simple lines that left just a hint of 'the girls' to tantalize. Light makeup was next and then my garters and stockings. How women stood panty hose, I'd never know. 20 minutes left before I had to leave and that would be pushing it. Luckily, I had just the vehicle for the job! 

Hair dried? Check! Nails buffed? Check. Last but not least, ridiculously high heels. Check. A quick once over in the mirror served to assure me I was presentable. Ooh, one last touch... Turning to my hat collection I pulled down a cute little black velvet dainty I'd found in a vintage shop in Piccadilly Fair. Crystal shot netting came just down to the tops of my cheekbones adding the perfect hint of mischief and mystery. 

I let myself out into the garage from the door off the kitchen. There was my baby in all her shining glory. Out of my first big book advance I had had bought the Jag F series I'd been drooling over. 

It was the usual in and out, hurry up and wait of inner city traffic at show time. Good tunes and a shot of absinthe before I left the house made it just barely tolerable though. At last, I pulled up out front of the Donmar Warehouse. Many luxury cars and motorcycles were already parked. A helpful young valet bopped up and asked if she could have the key. I got that bit of nonsense over with and headed into the theater. The box office was to the right and as old fashioned, as one would expect. 

"I'm picking up a will call ticket under the name Gwynne." I showed my ID and was taken aback at the alacrity with which the ticket was produced along with a smart dressed usher to guide me to my seat. He led the way through the darkened theater. There was that scent of greasepaint, sweat, and liniment that I so loved about really good theatres. The Donmar was indeed a warehouse but it seethed with energy and barely restrained glee as it awaited the antics of its cast. 

"Here you are Ms. Cafferty. Front row center just as directed." The usher took my wrap and seated me. Hmm, prime seating. Thomas must be serious. I have to admit, I am a bit nervous by this point. Many looked up to the man as a heartthrob and big name celebrity. I suppose there was a bit of that buried in my nerves. For me though, it was the jitters of a long time actress about to meet a Master of the Craft; someone I'd looked up to and turned to many times for inspiration or skill checks on my own performances. 

Celebrities were nothing new to me. They did what I did but just got more money and lost more freedom than I did. Only a few, very great talents made me nervous. Branagh, Brian Blessed and Emma Thompson being a couple of that very short list. The lights dimmed and my heart raced. The show was to begin and I was about to see the truly great actors of our Craft take the stage and transport me into my favourite Shakespearean saga. 

I dimly registered a couple coming late to the show taking their seats beside me but I was engaged in the pre-show euphoria that was a hallmark of my love for theatre so I didn't bother to see who my seat mates were. Whoever the guy was though, he was big. He squeezed me right up to the edge of my armrest and then some. I sighed and adjusted then gave myself over to the magic. 

The next few hours passed in a whirlwind of emotion for me. I went from the heights joy to the depths of despair and back again. I hid my tears with carefully applied eye drops and hoped that my emotional reaction had gone unnoticed. It hadn't. The large gentleman next to me handed me a tissue. 

Periodically throughout the performance, I felt as though the marvelous Thomas . was addressing his lines to me; electrified by the brief contact our eyes made throughout the course of his performance. With a sinking feeling, I realized that I was in deep trouble. This man could walk right through every defense I had like they were nothing more than rice paper and that scared the crap out of me. Perhaps I could just duck out of the party and send a note 'round to him later. This indeed was the reason I liked having my own vehicle. 

Too soon, all too soon the curtain fell. The cast took their bows and the lights came up. I rummaged in my clutch for the keys fully intending to make a dash for it when that annoying little voice of Alpha me spoke up "Mewling Coward." She accused. Damn I hated being called that more than any other insult on the face of this planet. Decision revised I dropped the keys back into the dark of my clutch. 

I grabbed my wrap and started to clear the seat, noticing that many of the audience were in an unusual hurry to vacate the Donmar. Looking up I noticed that two people were blocking the way out so I tapped my foot impatiently and waited for the couple on the aisle to clear away. I could then make my way to the cast green room. Still stewing in my own juices I realized the man and his companion looked familiar but honestly, I was just too annoyed to sort it through. I followed them into the aisle and was surprised to hear him ask the usher for directions to the green room. 

Well, they had been in the private seats so it stood to reason they were someone's guests.

I followed the broad back and blonde, beach bum hair to the backstage area, hanging back in the doorway to the green room as I assessed the scene. Introvert that I was the melee in there was to say the least quite daunting. I spied Thomas exchanging hugs and greetings, his laugh ringing out over the murmurs of the crowd as he knocked back a huge bottle of cold water. I watched, mesmerized. Economy and grace of movement in every gesture; the man radiated joy and comfort in his own skin. He drew others to him like a moth to flame. I was so out of my league here. My comfort zone was in words on the page. Tonight I was way out of that happy little place. 

I noticed that though he gave his attention and words to everyone that approached him, his gaze scanned the crowd over and over again; brief flashes of disappointment dulling his charisma momentarily each time. Could it be he was looking for me? Blondie and his gorgeous wife waded through the crowd to get to Thomas. Once there, my fine actor found himself swept up in a bone crushing hug and lifted off his feet. I couldn't hear the words exchanged but this was most definitely a much looked forward to moment. The two heads, one fair, and shining the other dark and slick with perspiration came together. With a gesture towards me, the blonde behemoth indicated I was standing in the shadows of the doorway. Thomas's head snapped up and he zeroed in on my like a heat seeking missile. 

"Oof" I muttered as his gaze punched into me. Grabbing the doorjamb, I held on for dear life as I tried to convince my lungs to start working again. Was he coming towards me? He was! Panic ensued. I wasn't ready for this. He wasn't all that everyone said he was and I didn't want to face the letdown of dealing with an ego driven celebrity. I told myself this as I looked around for a convenient escape. No such luck. People to the right of me, people to the left of me and suddenly me, stuck in the middle with him. 

I am not a tall woman, but five inch heels usually counter that. Yet I still felt myself looking upward a considerable distance. Contact. Lungs giving me the 'sod off' again and then I was lost in the deep intelligence and warmth of that chameleon gaze of his. What were those eyes coloured anyhow? Grey? Blue? Aqua? All of the above? I realized he was talking to me and I was sitting there stuck on stupid. My Alpha came back up and took the reins. 

"....Miss Cafferty yes?" He was asking in those rolling, deeply accented tones of his. "Or is it Mrs?" He was waiting patiently for a reply for me, a slight smile on his lips. 

"Miss actually Mr. Hiddleston. It's Miss. A pleasure to meet you." I extended my hand expecting a courteous shake. I almost pulled my hand away when he brought it to his lips for a light, warm kiss to the back of it. Humour glinted in his eyes and the corner of his mouth twitched as he noticed my reaction. 

"Please, everyone calls me Tom and I cannot help but think of wrinkle cream and geritol every time someone calls me 'Mr.' or addresses me by my full name; makes me feel like I'm in trouble again." 

I cocked an eyebrow. Humour, self-deprecating and wry spilled from him. What an intoxicating combination. I tugged gently at my hand as he was still holding it, now in both of his massive ones. It seemed he only let me go reluctantly. 

"I very much enjoyed your performance tonight Mr...err, Thomas. It was masterfully done and quite up to the quality of your Henry." He looked surprised at that. 

"Thank you," he responded with a grin. "That's quite the nicest compliment I've had in a long while. It's especially nice coming from one with such varied talents as yours." 

I frowned. How much exactly did he know about me? I was careful to pursue my acting under layers of anonymity. Could he possibly be referring to that and if so; was it my snake of an agent who'd ratted me out to him? 

"You seem to know a great deal about me..." I paused, choking on the 'Mr.' once again. 

He gave a somewhat Gallic shrug and didn't reply. In the distance, a glass chimed. 

"All right all," the director yelled, getting everyone's attention. "Time for the closing toast then it's off to the banquet room for the after party." 

Glasses of champagne are coming around; a toast to the production and clinking glasses filled the room. Soon after the celebration, people began making their way out to the parking lot. Thomas took my arm to lead me out of the green room right before I could perform my planned vanishing act. Bending his head towards mine, he commented as we walked; "I err..well you see I'm not sure how to go about getting you to the party. The venue is hmm, difficult to find. That's one reason I wanted to send a car 'round for you, so we could share the limo and talk on the way. I don't suppose you'd care to follow me over?" 

I considered. Seemed safe enough. Two vehicles and a lot of road and traffic between us. 

"Sure, I can do that. My car is valet serviced so I will have to go retrieve it. Where are you parked?" 

My driver is waiting just round back," he replied, that cheesy smile lighting his features again. "Excellent!" He continued where he'd left off. " I'll make quite sure not to lose you right? It will just take me a moment to change and collect my things." 

We parted ways, him to his dressing room I assume. (No brain DO NOT go there...shedding clothes from his sticky body...STOP IT!) I departed for the foyer and the line of people waiting there for their own transport. Finally, I'd secured myself in the car with music blaring, Deep breaths Gwennie. He's just a man. A damn fine looking one...an intelligent, charismatic one... but still just a man." I enjoyed the throaty growl of my engine for a moment or two before putting it into gear. That extra for the suped up engine had been so worth it. Moving slowly around to the back to avoid colliding with the fleeing cast and crew of the show I spotted Tom by his car. His driver had parked under one of the Halogens and the sight almost looked...unreal as its light haloed him. He stood leaning against the driver's door with those long legs of his crossed and a hand running repeatedly through his already messy hair. 

I pulled up and rolled the window down, muting my music. "So where exactly are we going?" I asked him. 

He was busy admiring my car, running his hands over the curves and lines of it. Was I supposed to feel like it was my body he was doing it to? Oh Lordy lordy this was such a bad idea. 

"This is yours? It's a fine piece of engineering I must say," Tom murmured absently as he studied my Jag. 

I put the top down. Just to be a bit of a gloating smart ass. Thanks Alpha Me. Way to kick at his ego! 

"And a rag top! Outstanding. How does she handle? Sweet on the curves then?" He was like a little boy with a hunger for someone else's bright, shiny toy. I sighed. I knew what he wanted. I knew it was stupid...self-destructive even, but I did it anyhow. 

"Um, you could send your car ahead if you like and drive us to the venue. No worries of getting lost and you get a little play time." I cringed inwardly. Had I really just said that? 

He wasted no time opening my door for me and helping me round to the passenger seat. I couldn't help but laugh aloud though as he slid behind the wheel and promptly found himself kissing his kneecaps. A few moments of frustrated adjusting and creative swear words as he knocked around it's true; but then he was finally settled in to his satisfaction. 

"My you are a tiny thing aren't you darling?" He quipped as he put the car into gear. His hands looked strong and capable on the wheel. I'd also gone the extra mile for the paddle shifters on the steering wheel He grinned at that little discovery. 

You seem to really know and appreciate your cars Ms. McCafferty." He winced a bit as my music came on and I reached to adjust it down the same time as he did. Our hands brushed and it was like a hard shot of electricity to my skin. Once again, I found myself yanking my hand away. I slid a glance at him sideways; he was staring at the stereo where his hand hovered, motionless. I can't even begin to decipher the expression on his face; I only knew that it was disquieting for me. After a few seconds passed, he dropped his hand back on the wheel and turned his face to look at me. 

There was no way to dodge that gaze. He locked my eyes in place with his and studied me intently. "You are a surprise darling...I will say that. Definitely a surprise." 

His comment throws me off, makes me nervous. Nervous makes me cheeky...sarcastic when it's really bad. 

"Is it a good surprise then? Like flowers in the middle of winter or a bad surprise, like finding out there's weevils in your flour?" Yep, there went my eyebrow, adding a dash more sarcasm just in case the verbal wasn't enough. 

Tom threw his head back and laughed, full and free...ringing with genuine mirth. Once he'd done with his merriment, he looked back down at me. "Oh definitely flowers Ms. McCaffrerty; the brightest and most rare of blossoms. Shall we?" 

He pulled out of the parking lot with a surge of power and...yes I have to admit...a sexy flair on the turnout that was more than competent. As we drive, I'm musing over his comment. What did it really mean? Was it genuine or the flowery lip service of an actor who wanted a part very badly? I'm pretty sure I don't want to know. Either way I'd be even further sunk. One of my favourite songs came on...Holocene by Bon Iver. I can't resist...it's habit. I began singing softly along with the song; rewarded by yet another piercing glance from Tom. I cut myself off; fidgeting uncomfortably. 

"I'm sorry; I tend to sing all the time in the car. It's kind of a habit now." Great, more awkward points for me. Cha Ching! Rack 'em up! 

"Don't even apologize. It was lovely, you have a very soothing voice, and this is one of my favourite songs." 

Just then, we turned into the circular drive of the Hotel, cutting off the reply I'd formed. 

"Here we are then, safe and sound without a mark on your baby. You handled my driving remarkably well by the way. Usually my passengers do a great deal of dashboard clinging and twitching.!" A big grin lit his face and I can't help but return it. 

"Really?" I answered back. "It was actually quite the tame ride compared to my own handling of the Jag. It was nice to see what it can do at sane speeds for once." I slipped my cell into my purse and secreted a pack of Cloves in as well, just as a calming hedge against my rampaging bets.

"Ouch," he cried, clutching his chest. Madame wounds me to the quick. "That'll teach me to go bragging on my talents." 

"Oh you have talents Thomas, just not behind the steering wheel." I gasped feeling the warm flush of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks. "Um that came out wrong..." His laugh caught me off guard. 

"Well I'll just have to see if I can impress you in some other area of my, eh heh heh, talents." He exited the car and came around to let me out on my side. Extending a hand, he stood and waited for me to take it. Looking from his hand to his face and back again, I sigh and put mine in his hand, just waiting for it. 

"Zap." Yup, there it was again. If this keeps happening, I'll end up with a bad case of static electricity or, worst-case scenario, my hair standing on end. 

Yet another valet came up for my keys. Before I know it I'm being whisked inside past cameras, reporters and fans all calling Tom's name. I can't help it, the media blitz from my last bestseller made me extremely camera shy, so I duck my head and let my hair cover my face. Tom took pity on me and my discomfort and just threw out friendly waves to the assembled throng. 

We made it safely in the door and checked our coats. As Tom helped me out of mine, he brushed my hair out of the way gently. 

"Soft...so soft..." he murmured quietly into my ear. 

"Did that just happen or did I imagine it?" I asked myself. It had been such a quick, quiet thing; such a simple gesture yet so very powerful. 

Once again, he was at my side. He extended his arm to me, as usual clothed impeccably in a bespoke suit. Placing my hand through his arm, I could feel the definition of hard won muscles beneath the soft, black velvet of jacket. 

Tom led me to a door across the lobby that was presided over by two very nice looking but definitely, 'all business' types who were checking access for guests. With a brief nod and wave to my escort, they passed us through. 

It was so bright! Light reflected off numerous cut crystal chandeliers and sparkling tableware. Women were in glittering gowns and dripping with jewels. All around me laughter, clinking glasses, and soft music conspired to overwhelm me. Blinking a few times my hand tightened inadvertently on Tom's arm. He looked down at me, concern marring his usual easygoing features. 

"Are you alright with this? Is it too much?" 

"No, really, it's fine" I replied. "I wasn't expecting such...spectacle." I took a breath and relaxed my hand. "I'm sure you have mingling to do and I believe I see your friends over there hailing you. Why don't you go on and mingle. I'll just circulate a bit!" Trying to pull my hand from his arm, I was surprised when he just snugged my hand in closer and refused to let me loose. 

"There is nothing more important that I have to do this evening than making sure you have a wonderful time. So if you aren't too opposed to it I shall be greedy with your company for a while longer." Smiling down at me, he began to lead me towards his friends. 

As we wound through the crowd it finally struck me; tall, blonde and musclebound...Chris Hemsworth from the Marvel movies. That would make the woman with him, no, make that exquisite woman, his wife Elsa. I groaned. How could I have been so oblivious? I'd probably completely offended two of this man's best friends. 

"Tom, we were wondering what was taking you," Chris said, clapping him soundly on the shoulder. To Tom's credit, it didn't so much as rock him back one single step. I felt my admiration ratchet up a notch. Elsa came forward, placed a kiss on Tom's cheek, and gave him a warm hug. 

"I can't believe we all managed to get together for this. It's been far too long Tom," she said, grabbing his free hand. 

"Indeed it has. Though I can't say I miss my daily pummelings by your giant of a husband," Tom said laughingly. I stand quietly not wanting to interject myself into what is obviously a very personal moment for the three of them. Their bond was obvious and I must admit I find myself a bit envious of it. 

Tom draws me forward and introduces me. "Chris, Elsa this is Miss McCafferty, the author that your wife is always raving about!" 

Oh dear, there goes that allergic reaction to embarrassment again. "Pleasure to meet you both," I murmur quietly. If I'm lucky maybe a great big sinkhole will open and swallow me up? Or a comet? A comet would be good...bearing me off to the dark, deep reaches of space.... 

I come back to the moment when Elsa takes my hand next. "It's such a pleasure to meet you. I've got all your books and I feel like a bit of a fan girl standing here face to face with you." 

My eyes widen. She's having a fan moment? Hollywood talent surrounds me and she's having a fan moment over me? What a reality check. 

Chris drops his arm around his wife's shoulder and pulls her close, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "Miss McCafferty please tell me you're planning on releasing another book soon so I can get her to talk about something other than the first four. Please? I can bribe you!" Elsa whacked him in the ribs. 

"Hush you. You read them as many times as I did. Don't deny it. I caught you." Turning to me, she grinned. "Supposedly he was running lines for a script. Guess what he actually had hidden behind the pages of that script?" 

It was Chris's turn to flush this time thank goodness. I quirked an eyebrow at him and waited. 

"They were quite well written actually and I found myself unable to step away from the stories. But they aren't," here he shot his wife a dour look, "your typical type of romances so ..." 

Elsa cut him off. "Okay Chris, why don't you quit before both of your feet are coming out of your mouth." She stood up on tiptoe and gave him a warm kiss...a few seconds passed and the kiss got considerably warmer. 

Squirming uncomfortably, I looked around for something...anything to provide me an escape from the display of affection. Fortunately for me Tom's timing off stage was as good as it was onstage. Clearing his throat, he looked pointedly at the two of them as they came up for air. "I'd tell you to get a hotel room but we're in a hotel and knowing you two you'd just point out that you are in a room and it would all just go downhill from there." Laughter rang out and I was finally comfortable enough to join in. 

The evening alternated between making the rounds and being repeatedly introduced as "the brilliant author," "the bestselling author," or some other form of elevated title. This was interspersed with trips to the bar and buffet where I he indulged me in any whim I expressed. 

The lights dimmed and tables cleared. Couples began to take to the dance floor. Tom had just handed me my fourth Black Opal, one of my favourite mixed drinks. 

"Are you trying to get me snockered Mr. Hiddleston," I asked him with a grin, taking a healthy sip of my fresh drink. 

"Would it be low class of me to admit 'guilty as charged'?" He took a sip of his own drink, Jameson's on the rocks. I look on enviously. That would actually was my preferred drink but I had determined early on that I would need all my wits about me tonight so I had forgone the pleasure. 

I considered. How did I feel about his admission? Flattered surely. Amused? Definitely. He was in for a big surprise if that was his intent. I've always had a huge tolerance for alcohol and it takes some serious mixing to even get me buzzed. 

"Well, low class no..." I said. "But amusing? Absolutely. That is because I know something you don't." I downed another swallow. 

"Really," he said that intense stare on my face again. "And what exactly would that be Ms. McCafferty?" I can feel the 'cat that got the canary grin' taking over my face. 

"If I told you then we would both know and I would lose my secret. I'm not inclined to breach that wall of mystery at the moment Thomas." Setting my now empty glass down I looked for a place to set my small desert plate. Tom took it from me and set it on the tray of a passing waiter.

"You," he paused for a moment and looked thoughtful, "You are quite the handful aren't you?" He finished. 

"I can be," I replied, "but only in the right hands." Mental slap. Damn it Gwen get out of Freud's head and back into your own. Looking up at him through my lashes to see if he'd caught my slip, I was mortified to find he'd caught every bit of it. 

"Shall we dance Ms. McCafferty? It's a lovely song." Tom held his arm out...again. 

Sighing I met his enquiring gaze. "Well if you're going to get me tipsy and I'm going to dance with you there's no need to stand on formality is there? My name is Gwyneth. Gwen or Gwennie to my friends." 

"Lovely name," Tom responded. "But you have to be less formal as well. It's Tom." 

Looking at him with serious consideration, I was weighing what I saw and knew of the man against what he said his preferred name was. 

"No." I said quite finally. 

"No?" He repeated back. 

"No. I'm sorry but Tom is too pedestrian a name for a man of such complexities and enigmas. Thomas suits you must better and it rolls of my tongue much more easily." 

Tom inclined his head. "If that's what you wish to call me then I bow to your superior sense of aesthetics. I shall enjoy you calling me by a name only family uses." Before I could respond, he swept me out onto the dance floor. His steps were sure and fluid. He led with command and moved us expertly about the floor. 

By this time I am feeling just a bit buzzed. The whole effect with the lights and the sweep of his powerful steps makes me feel just a bit like I'm flying. I relax my body into the movements of his, swaying closer and fitting my curves to the lean, hard lines of his body. Around my waist, his arm tightens a bit, securing me to him so that I can't distance myself again. Time suspends itself. All of a sudden, there is no one but the two of us and the music binding us to one another. Our bodies are in perfect agreement. The brush of his velvet against my satin stirs a subtle heat and lethargy in my limbs. I find my head drooping to rest on his taut chest. Contentment washes over me. A sense of belonging at long last...a sense of...home? One song melds into another and before I know it, the evening has come to an end. He draws us to a halt at the edge of the dance floor where Chris and Elsa are watching with approval. 

Suddenly I'm shy...sixteen again at the prom with chaperones watching me make a fool of myself with my date. I feel awkward and unsure of what to say or do. Again, Tom seems to know inherently just what I need. His arm drops to my waist and he draws me close to his side; not possessive, nor even inappropriate; just...comforting. 

"Elsa and I are going to take off. We have to pick up the baby girl from the sitter. But let's get together for brunch or something tomorrow yeah?" Chris turns to me and holds out a hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you this evening Gwynne." I took his hand and shook it. Elsa, being less formal gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. She took a moment to whisper in my ear. 

"I've never seen Tom so content. You're good for him. Keep it up." Then she stepped back and it was if the moment had never happened. We all said our goodbyes and headed out. 

Tom gave the valet our ticket. As we waited, I turned to him. 

"Thomas how are you getting home? Is your car here?" I peered up at him only to find him with a bemused look on his face as he stared down at me. Slowly his hand rose and smoothed away a strand from where it lay across my face. 

"I ehm, it should be somewhere about I'll have to call my driver. Only..." he trailed off. 

"Yes?" I prompt him. 

"I was hoping that maybe our evening didn't have to end just yet. After all, we haven't even gotten to discuss your script. I also find myself reluctant again to give up the pleasure of your company. Would you care to come back to the B and B with me that I'm staying at?" 

I shake my head no. It takes me mere seconds to decide. "My townhouse is only a few moments away and I have tea along with some goodies I made this morning. We can be more comfortable there I think and I'll have my laptop and copies available should we need them. That is if you're agreeable to it?" 

I waited for the hammer to fall. Going to an impersonal room at a rental was one thing. He would have to step into my world and experience me in my own territory. I think he might not be that at ease with me. I should have known by now though that nothing was ever as simple as it seemed where Tom Hiddleston was concerned. 

"That is a brilliant idea," he agreed readily. "I would love to if you're sure you're comfortable with it. Shall I follow you in my car then?" He looked longingly at the Jag parked in all its crimson glory under the streetlight. 

Laughing I shake my head at him. "Oh alright, come on. You can drive," I say, tossing him the keys. 

With a big, boyish grin of delight, he takes my hand and just about drags me across the parking lot to the car. Unlocking it with the remote, he hands me into the passenger side once again. 

"Think I'll take you up on that challenge you threw down darling so be sure to buckle up" he says as he draws the belt over my shoulder. I can smell his cologne as he leans in close, the stubble on his chin brushing my forehead. I can't help myself. I draw his scent in...cologne and male. Potent, musky male and a hint of the Jameson's he'd been drinking tonight. My breath catches.As he clicks the belt into place he draws back, his knuckles brushing my breast as he does so. We both freeze. My nipples harden to painful points...my back arching just the slightest bit as waves of pleasure wash over me. Our eyes meet and I see the darkening of those lovely sea green eyes; now there's a storm brewing in them, his pupils dilating as he sees my reaction. 

I'm caught in his desire. My eyes are tracing the quick dart of his tongue as he wets his lips. Slowly, so very excruciatingly slowly he withdraws his hand, dragging the knuckles over my chest and down my ribs to my hand where it's clenched on the seat. Gently he lifts my hand and turns it over, running his thumb over my curled fingers. His eyes are deep with mysteries and something more...something I'm afraid to name. Raising my hand to his mouth, he places a lingering, warm kiss on the inside of my wrist, the tip of his tongue darting out to taste the frantic pulse there. Again, with that surprising gentleness he uncurls my fingers, nipping each of my fingers lightly. 

Sensation like I've never felt before in my life race through my blood, each nip going straight to my core; sending shocks of pleasure that tighten my thighs and make me damp. His nostrils flare just slightly and a crooked grin crosses his lips. Tom places my hand in my lap, right where my thighs meet to guard my moist center. 

"There you go love. Nice and snug. Hold on tight. It's going to be quite the ride." He closes the door with a solid thump and I clench my legs together begging my body silently to behave; stop writing checks I do not intend to cash to this man. 

As he slides his belt on the sound of his clothes against the leather rasps against my already heightened senses. I swallow down the moan of pleasure that rises as I get another whiff of his scent. 

"Focus on something," I'm telling myself. "Anything, just not his smell...not the feel of his lips on your skin." I drop my eyes to the shift; he's foregone the paddle shifter this time in favour of the short throw, pistol grip stick. 

Oh oh, big mistake. His hands are large and strong on the shift, caressing the head of the stick slightly before he puts it in gear. I look up quickly to find him watching me intently. I can't help it; I lick my lips and flush as his eyes immediately track the action. I notice he's shifting around in the seat juts slightly as if he can't get comfortable. No control. My eyes drop to the seat and his lap. Oh! There's a very pronounced reason why he's shifting. I drop my head back against the headrest and close my eyes. Breathe. Count to ten. Recite the titles of your books from last to first Gwynne. Anything. Just don't look at him again. 

"You're not going to fall asleep on me are you Gwynne? I assure you I've no intention of boring you on our little ride." A wicked chuckle fills the car and I take a deep breath. Damn. More of his musk. Defiantly I open my eyes and sit up in the seat, crossing my legs. I look at him sideways out of my eyes. He's maneuvering the car expertly and weaving us in and out of traffic. Every shift is like a punch to my core, raising desire. His body is taut, I can tell from the muscles in his neck and the clenched jaw. 

He seems to feel my gaze on him and turns briefly to catch my eyes. So much heat...burning hunger in those eyes and dark, seductive intent. My alpha side refuses to let me look away. I hold his gaze until he turns back to the road. 

Two more turns and a roundabout and we are at my townhouse. My windows glow with warm welcome and my kitty is sitting silhouetted in the window. I move to unbuckle my seat belt but his warm hand on mine stops me. 

"Please, allow me." Sliding his hand delicately down my thigh to the clip he unfastens it and guides it back to its home. This time his knuckles brush the skin at my throat. I can feel the small, crisp hairs on his hand as it passes and it makes me swallow another moan. 

This can't be happening to me, this man...this whole experience. I've avoided this all my life and now here I am. With him. Trapped and helpless in my own needs... drowning in the hunger he raises in me. 

Coming around to the door, he helps me out, pulling me flush against him. I can feel him hard and warm pressing against the soft of my belly. For a moment his head drops back, eyes closed as he draws in a deep breath. Keeping hold of my hand he looks back down at me and motions forward with his free hand. 

"Shall we then?" He asks, his voice has lowered and become rougher now. Words are a lost cause. I just nod and start up the steps with him. He lets me go to dig through my purse and retrieve my keys. I undo the door locks one by one, throwing the door wide and inviting him in. 

He steps forward and stops in the foyer, looking into the living room while I close and re-lock the door behind us. 

"May I take your coat?" I ask him. He turns and unbuttons it. I slide my hands up his shoulders and under the lapels, removing it from him; loving the way his eyes darken again and dare me to do more. 

I whirl around and hang it on the coat rack then go for my own wrap. 

"Oh no," he whispers, bending down to place his lips by my ear. "Allow me to help you with that." I freeze, mesmerized as if I am a cobra and he the snake charmer; first my hair. He lifts the thick mass of it and puts it over my shoulder exposing the nape of my neck. I feel his thumbs caress the skin covering my top vertebrae before he slides his hands under my wrap and removes it. Pressing close to me, he reaches around to place it on a hook next to his. 

"So, um if you'll just follow me?" Distance, I need distance... breathing room. I hurry into the living room and give him the quick tour. 

"Over there is the bar, I keep it fully stocked as I'm a fairly choosy drinker. Walking to the beautiful cherry unit, I open a glass-fronted door to reveal several lovely decanters with various alcohols in them. 

"Would you care for one? I have Jameson's or maybe you'd like to try their other label, Red Breast?" 

Hands in his pockets, Tom strolls over to survey the offerings. "What is this?" He asks, holding up a very old bottle that has been so worn by time the label isn't even legible anymore. He rolls the bottle between his hands and examines it closely.

"It's absinthe. An original bottle from the French prohibition times when Absinthe had been banned from sale. It was one of my celebration gifts to myself when my first book made the New York Times list." I stay where I am by the arm of the couch, needing that distance between us; needing to deny the raging urge to close the distance and touch him again.

"Make yourself comfortable," I say as I move towards my den. "I'm just going to go get my laptop and the copies I have of the script. Back in a moment!" I hope I don't look too much like a rabbit running from a fox as I escape to my work place. Even if it is exactly how I feel. 

I click the small, Tiffany glass lamp on. The jeweled, stained glass patterns dance on my walls and ceiling. It's familiar...comfortable. Grounding, I dig out the scripts and find the laptop charger. I must admit that I am finding comfort and balance in all the natural, everyday habits.

I have delayed as long as I can; time to go and pay the piper. Walking back into the room I see him seated on my couch with a book in hand and a glass of something amber on the coffee table in front of him. By the size and colour of the book cover I'd guess he was reading my copy of the Desiderata that I'd found in an antique store. Since I'd kicked my heels off, my feet make no sound on the wood floors as I walk up behind the couch. I lean over and set my stack of things next to him on the cushion, retaining the cord to the laptop to plug into my power strip by the side table. Tom closes the book and sets it aside next to his drink. Before I know it he's palmed a copy of the script and is beginning to page through it. 

Coming around the arm of the couch, I settle myself with the pile of 'stuff' safely between us. I pull one leg up under me and scoop my hair over my shoulder to keep from sitting on it. 

Tom is already reading through the script. I open my laptop and launch the Celtx program that I do all of my screenplay writing in. 

"So where do you want to start Thomas and what questions do you have?" Keeping my eyes on the screen, I wait for him to answer. When he doesn't I raise my eyes from the screen to see him looking at me intently. Those eyes are seeking out every secret I've ever held; delving for mysteries he has no right to access...seducing me with every moment that passes. 

Thomas lays the script aside on top of the previously discarded book. Taking the computer from my lap, he puts it on the table as well. One long arm sweeps the remaining script onto the floor.

"That's going to make it difficult to get any work done tonight Thomas," I quip nervously. There is dark and dangerous intent in his eyes and I know I am the target of it. 

"I find myself unable to focus on work at the moment Gwyneth," he says softly, his hand coming up and gently cupping my chin. 

I open my mouth to speak but he lays one of those long fingers across my lips. "Ah ah," he says with a smile in his voice. "You talk too much at times and have a bad habit of trying to change subjects midstream.

He was so close now; the heat of his skin and the callouses on his fingers are burning through the soft skin of my lips. All I could smell was the overwhelming scent of male and musky cologne. It fills me up and courses through my blood, taking me from warmth to burning desire in an instant. I can't look away from his eyes, he won't let me. The shifting of his eye colour mesmerizes me; that gorgeous sea green/grey darkening to steel blue desire, shadowed and promising. I am drowning in those depths; those wicked depths promising pleasures I'd never even dreamed of if I just let go and sank beneath the waves with him. My soul screams that this moment...this man will change the course of my life forever. 

My eyes drop to the firm column of his throat where his pulse pounds hard and rapid against the tanned skin; his breath is rushing in and out of him and his chest rises and falls with the power of the needs that are sweeping through him; the same needs I am desperately fighting. I can feel his heat radiating against me from his body. I feel like I am standing in the hot caress of a steaming summer day. My world narrows to the moment of he and I hovering on the edge of a perilous dance that seems now to be a destined and forgone conclusion. 

"Gwyn..." he said, voice dropping into that damn Loki whisper that always undid me when I watched him on screen; "I'm going to kiss you now. I'm not going to stop until you make me stop. But I don't think you will. I don't think you will want me to." He inhaled deeply, eyes shuttering themselves beneath the sooty curtain of his lashes. It seemed like an eternity passed as he lowered his head to mine, fingers sliding from my lips to grasp my chin firmly. Inescapable. All of this is just...completely unavoidable. He angles my head to where he wants it... where he can have the deepest, most intimate access to my mouth. 

His lips touch mine and electric shock runs through my body, jerking my muscles into a rigid arc of pleasure. His own groan of pleasure vibrates against my lips as he sweeps his tongue over their curves, learning them in intimate detail before taking full possession of the kiss. His tongue is hot and seeking, demanding and getting the freedom he wants to undo my control. I can once again feel the groan of desire vibrating in his chest as his arm pulls me in closer; so close that there is no way to tell where he leaves off and I begin. 

Oh gods, the taste of him; sweet, powerful whiskey and heady desire, the heat of his mouth igniting in me to rush lava through my body. I am lost. I drown in the feeling and sensation of everything that is this man, this consummate lover. My hands fist; one into his shirt and one into the coarse, silky curls barely tamed into submission. 

Ah, that word...submission. Perfect. I submit to his power and his intent and feel incredibly complete for the first time in my life. He moves his hand from my waist into my hair, winding it around his fingers and tightening to a degree just shy of painful. I can't help but shudder against him as the tides of desire crash over me...breaking me against the hard shores of his desires. There is nothing now, nothing but the pleasure and the explosive chemistry building between us moment by moment. In that moment I know that the coming explosion will shatter me into a million pieces and that he will be there to pick them up and put them back together. 

He pulls back briefly, searching my eyes. I feel drugged...heavy with need, my eyes searching in return and finding what I want to see most; lust, passion...a deeply burning need that he is holding iron control over until he is completely sure that I can handle what he wants to unleash on me. 

A crooked smile curls up one corner of his mouth. 

"Ah love, if you could see what I do right now. Do you know what it does to a man to see a woman so taken over by him that she has yielded to him completely? Do you have any idea what I want to do with the keys you've handed me?" His hand tips my chin up higher as he silently commands me to offer up to him my complete self...body...soul...maybe even my heart. 

"Do you want this Gwyn?" He rasps his question at me, the tone saying he will accept nothing but the raw, unvarnished truth from me. "Because if you don't, you need to say so now while I can still stop myself, find some sort of control that lets you walk away from me...from this." 

"I want this Thomas...I want you...and I don't want to wait another minute..." my voice breaks as his hand contracts on my chin, almost but not quite painfully. He keeps his gaze locked on mine still searching, looking for the truth of my words. Satisfied with the answers to his unspoken questions he releases me; only to step back and lift me into his arms. 

"Room, where?" His voice was a hot growl against my ear. I point down the hallway and do what I've been fantasizing about since I'd met him; my tongue whips out to taste the beating pulse in his throat, nibbling on it...sucking it in and releasing it. His steps, so sure and rapid falter as he inhales, the hiss of air rushing through his teeth. 

"Oh I'm going to enjoy this Gwyn my dear. More importantly...so are you." He bites down on the shell of my ear and I arch in his arms, mouth open on a silent moan that I have no breath left to give sound to. 

His chuckle is dark and almost evil, rife with male satisfaction and I feel once again the hot rush of fluid that means I am beyond ready for the invasion of my body by his. 

He inhales deeply again as he steps into my room; "Roses...and desire...musky...all you...I will never love another scent as much as this one Gwyn and I know I'm going to love the taste of it just as much." He draws to a stop at the side of my bed, looking down at me, wrestling with his self-control, and barely winning the battle. 

I know he meant what he said; I know what he means to do to me, tonight...this night, here in my bed and I ache for the beginning of it. I moan as he slides me down to my feet, brushing me over his taut body and the rampant evidence of his want for me. 

I know a moment of hesitation as my hip brushes over his straining erection. Dear gods that cannot be the reality of his size...his girth could it? Will I even be able to accommodate all of him inside of me? I don't know but I am more than willing to find out. He steps back and I shiver at the loss of his warmth. His eyes take in every detail of my appearance, stopping on my breasts...trailing down to the soft curve of my belly and the apex of my thighs. His look ranges back up over my body and he licks his lips as he notices the soft jut of my nipples pushing against the velvet of my gown. 

"You have no idea how much I want to just rip the clothes from your body...but to destroy such a lovely gown is unthinkable. So, I think I will just please us both and take my own sweet time revealing your body." He steps back towards me and releases the catch on the slim belt; the metallic slither of it as it hit the floor filling the silence of the room. His hands take my shoulders and turn me. There is only a small zipper at the base of my spine because the back of the gown plunges so low. I can't help it...I hiss as he places hot, wet kisses down my spine, nibbling and breathing warm air against the trailing moisture he leaves in his wake. I can hear the soft chuckle against my skin as I goose bump. His warm fingers are running between the zipper on my dress and the heated skin it covers. Then the rasp as he lowers it. 

It is second nature to me...being shy of my body and myself; I clutch my arms over my chest as the gown starts to slide down. His arms come around me and gently move my hands to my sides. Then there was only the silken slide of velvet on skin as the gown drops to the floor. 

"Dear gods," He breaths as my garters and stockings are revealed to him. His hands skim my hips, playing with the small straps holding my silk stockings up. Slow, so slow and carefully he touches me. Then his big hands are framing my butt cheeks, revealed by the thong I'd donned with my other lingerie. He shapes them, squeezes...caresses. I hear him shift behind me and then there is the heat of his tongue again; this time at the small of my back first, slowly moving to replace his hands. I am frozen as pleasure and shock tear through me. It feels so...intimate, so wicked. The garter and stockings are soon gone, whisked away by those so capable hands. I feel exposed to him, vulnerable in a way I've never experienced before. 

"Turn around Gwyn," he commands softly, but with iron in his voice. 

I turn slowly, now clad only in the black thong and bra he's left on me. One finger lifts and slides underneath the front catch, releasing it. I cannot for the life of me look away. His hands are strong and hard, dark against the paleness of my skin. 

"Fuck," he groans as he takes in my heavy breasts, their tips swollen and darkened with the blood rushing to set fire to me even further. "You are...exquisite. Made for my lips...my teeth...my body. I want to know every inch of you Gwyn, inside and out. And you...darling girl, you've given me the permission to do so." He pulls me in close again and takes my mouth with demanding pressure, bruising my lips in wonderful aggression, seeking the warm depths and taste of me. I realize for a moment that I am all but nude and he still fully clothed. Embarrassment tinges the desire, making me suddenly shy as all my skin is pressed against the crisp lines of his formal wear. 

"Take it off Thomas..." I ask against his mouth. "Let me feel you too...learn you...taste you." 

Once again, he is in control of my gaze, lifting my face to meet his eyes. 

"Ask me nicely Gwynn, say...please." 

Part of me rebels. I am no man's toy...I take orders from no lover. I step closer to him, the hint of challenge in my own eyes. 

"If you won't take them off Thomas," I purr, threat heavy in my words; "Then I shall have to take them off of you and I can't guarantee that they'll survive as well as my dress did." I watch as one of his eyebrows flies up and a hint of that Loki smile, challenging and full of arrogance makes its way across his face. 

"Oh no," he replies, silken menace implied in his voice and words. "This isn't your safe little world any more Gwyn. You do not rule here. I do. He undoes his bowtie quickly and deftly, snagging my wrists before I can register what he is doing. Within a few moments, he has secured my hands behind me, tied at the wrist by that slim piece of silk. 

I tip my chin up, defiance in every line of my body, radiating towards him out of my eyes. 

"Excellent," he breathe. "I like a good fight." He moves forward and removes all the bindings from my hair; letting it tumble in all its glorious, silken mass around me. His hand wraps into lengths of it and he pulls hard enough to let me know who is truly in control of these moments. 

I can't believe it...a growl comes out of my throat, low and menacing. I growl at him as I try to free my wrists. I want to touch him dammit. Then that laugh again, arrogant, confident in his mastery of me. 

"Oh no little hellcat, you won't growl and spit at me. I'm here to tame you to my hand." He lets go of my hair and steps back. Slowly he shrugs out of his suit vest, hands moving to the cufflinks and buttons on his shirt. One by one, they are released and his skin is slowly exposed. I lick my lips in anticipation of a taste. Then the shirt is gone and his hands have dropped to his belt, undoing the buckle and letting it drop to the floor. I watch...mesmerized, helpless against his little show. He toes his socks off; then he is standing there in nothing but his dress slacks and bare skin. I can barely breathe, my chest rises and falls with the effort to get enough air, and he watches intently as my breasts rise and fall as well. 

Dropping my eyes to where his hands rest over the closure of his pants, I feel my eyes widen. Dear Lady above, he is actually big enough to be peeking over the waistband of his trousers. Trepidation creeps through me. It isn't possible. He will split me in two; push in further than anyone had before. It would hurt. 

He must have seen it in my eyes because the commanding gaze softens. He moves forward. 

"At your pace love; I won't hurt you...I'll make sure you're ready for me. All. The. Way. Ready." He drops to his knees in front of me. Looking up at me his hands began to slide my thong down my legs; raising first one leg then the other, removing them with slow torment. 

His eyes drop. A small patch of coppery curls covers the soft core of me. I didn't shave bare so there is only a hint of soft fur hiding me from him. His fingers slide down, gently tugging on the small, damp curls before sliding underneath to find the hot, wet entrance hidden beneath. 

My head is too heavy to hold up, dropping back on my neck as I am engulfed in waves of the most intense pleasure I've ever felt. His hand withdraws, leaving me empty and wanting. 

"Look at me Gwyn," He commands gently but with no hint of weakness in the words. Compelled, I raise my head and meet his eyes. 

"I want you to watch me. I want you to see me pleasure you and if you close your eyes or look away? I'll stop. I'll make you beg me to start again. Do you understand?" Rebellion flares again but a quick stroke of his broad finger over the slim entrance quells it. "Do you understand me Gwyneth?" He repeats himself and I nod slowly. Holding my eyes with his he sinks down on his heels and lowers his mouth to replace his fingers. Then it comes; that slow, moist glide of his warm tongue, caressing up and down...circling...his lips working me expertly as his eyes stay locked on mine. His hands are iron bands on my hips holding me perfectly still for his mouth's intimate invasion. His eyes drop as his tongue pushes inside of me. I can't help it; a shriek of pleasure tears from my throat as his tongue mimics what his body will soon do. 

I struggle to rock my hips forward into his mouth but he holds me immobile as he pleasures me. 

Wave after wave of pleasure tears over me, pulling me apart, and leaving me in trails of helpless sensations. Then his finger slides in and joins his tongue. That's all it took. I shatter on a wordless scream of pleasure, my body bucking against his grip; the evidence of my coming spilling into his mouth and down his chin. He holds me and works me slower and slower as the aftershocks subside. Finally, he raises his head, wiping his chin with his fingers and he sucks them clean. 

"As sweet and delicious as I knew it would be...but here...taste for yourself." He rises and takes my mouth again. Now there is the taste of him, yes...but overlying that, the taste of me. Of my pleasure. I'd never tasted myself before. It is...erotic...unexpectedly so. He pulls back from the kiss with a final, hard nip to my bottom lip. One easy motion and he has scooped me up, laying me in the center of his bed. Then, for long moments, he just gazes at me as if memorizing each and every detail. 

"Thomas...come to me..." my voice is broken and raw from screaming his name in pleasure. 

"Patience my darling," he chides me softly. "This is the first time for us. Nothing like it will ever come again and it will be done right." He finally pops the button at the top of his slacks, carefully rasping the zipper down so as not to injure the hardness making it so difficult to do. He steps out of his pants and my mouth goes dry; my heart racing in furious beats as I take in the beauty of him. Flat belly and a small trail of curly hairs leading down to the lean hips and angular hipbones; the proud jut of his member standing straight and engorged, flat up against his belly. 

I lick my lips again, wondering; what will he taste like? What will he feel like in my mouth? Inside my body. He watches me intently as he encircles himself with his hand, sliding...up and down, over the weeping head of his erection; working himself, as I so badly want to do. 

"I can see you want this Gwyn," he teases softly. "I can see how you are hungry and out of patience. Shall I come to you now? Do you want me inside of you Gwyn?" He keeps the pace up and continues stroking himself. 

I am done. All thoughts of rebellion and control have evaporated in the heat of my needs. He can see it; the submission in my eyes. The willingness to do exactly as he tells me. 

His low chuckle sounds as he straddles me on the bed. He circles his fingers over the beads of moisture coating the head of him, bringing them to my lips. 

"Taste me...," he urges, sliding his fingers between my lips as I open my mouth for him. I suckle his fingers greedily...the flavor of him exploding on my tongue and through my senses. This time it is his head that drops back in pleasure as his other hand takes up where he'd left off; his hips rocking themselves into his own firm grip. His harsh breaths and soft moans fill the room. 

Then his fingers are gone from my mouth and I'm sad to say a little whimper of denial makes its way from between my lips. His hands drop to his sides as he leans forward, crushing our chests together. He unties the binding on my wrists and brings my own arms forward, wrapping one of my hands around his length. Guiding me into the rhythm, he likes best. Slide, grip, slow then fast until his hips rock again; this time into my own grip. I can't even close my fingers around him. But he feels good...so good. He is all hot, silken skin over hard, thick steel and his scent makes me mad with greed. 

Abruptly he stops and removes my hand. "Oh no darling...not that way. I'm not ready yet." His head lowers to my breast and then his mouth is on my nipple, tongue circling, and teeth nipping. I am no longer in control. I moan wantonly...loudly...plead with him and call his name over and over, as he tortures my breasts with fierce attention. If he keeps it up I'll go over just from this; but he seems to know that as he stops and pins my hands over my head. 

"Do you want me inside of you Gwyn? Do you want me moving in and out of you...hard, slow...deep. Do you want that Gwynn," he demands. 

"Then say it. Say 'please Thomas'. 

My will to resist is broken. All I can think of is our bodies joined; not even nervous about the size of him now...just...needy, aching." 

"Please, Thomas...need you inside...please," I moan, arching my hips and begging him with my eyes. "Now Thomas...it has to be now...please." 

He smiles, full of pleasure and satisfaction. "Very good Gwyn, you beg so prettily I think I'll give you what you want; what we both want and you...you are so very, very ready." 

Taking himself in hand and releasing my arms, he positions himself, rubbing gently over me back and forth before entering me just slightly; making room for the rest of himself. 

Moans of pleasure tear from me as I fight to draw him further in. But no, that isn't what Tom has in mind for me. He is still in control. He will set the pace. Slow, inch by torturous inch he eases in; my only consolation is in seeing how far he is pushing himself as well. Beads of sweat run down his forehead and his face is rigid with control...with need. 

Finally, he sinks all the way into me and then just holds still to let me adjust to the invasion. 

I smile up at him. Now...he is mine. I have a control and torment for him that he can't take back and I am going to get some of my own torment in. 

Again, with the eyebrow quirk and inquisitive look, almost hesitant as if wondering what has given me that 'cat and canary' grin. 

As for me...well I'd learned some marvelous isolation and control tricks taking belly dancing. 

I contract around him, pulling him deeper and holding him firm inside of me; rotating my hips I tease him where he is buried to the hilt in me. Groans tear from his throat, ripped from the depths of his chest. 

"Minx," he growls..." thrusting into me deeper. "Your pleasure is mine to give...I told you." His words echo harshly in the room. My smile widens as I sigh in satisfaction. Again the squeezing, this time in groups of three, pelvis rising and forming circle eights as I milk him from inside of me. 

The skin around his mouth whitens as he fights for control; but it just feels too damn good to him...I can tell I used everything I have at my disposal to break his control. Because that is how I want him. Out of control; completely, his leash snapped and him eager to run. 

When it comes, that 'snap' of his hard won control, I can almost hear it. He throws his head back and all but roars as it deserts him. My hands dig into his back leaving small, crescent wounds from my nails I'm sure. 

He withdraws and slams back in, pistoning his hips deep and hard...his pace increasing as I rise and fell to meet his every thrust. So close...I am on the edge and I can see he is trying to wait...be the gentleman. But I don't want the gentleman. I want the monster; the unleashed primal part of him is what I crave. My hands leave his back and trace his chest and stomach finally reaching his own small, brown male nipples. 

I carefully pinch and roll them as I thrust back in time with him. That is all it takes for either of us. He pushes in harder and further that he's gone before. Our hands rise and link as our eyes meet. We watch pleasure overtake each other as we scream our release and plunge into the madness of satisfaction together. As we fall back to earth slowly, our eyes locked there is a new element in play. We are bonded. How and why I think is the question we both have. No matter how we question it though, destiny has had her way and we are joined in ways that will never be undone. I am unsurprised that my joy and euphoria are tinged with fear and hesitation. No one has ever gotten this far past my walls and I am sure it will take an act of the Gods to push him back out. I just cannot decide if that is truly what I want or not.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO...AFTERMATH

 

We lay against each other, drained and shaking from what had...yes...exploded between us. I know a moment's doubt. I'd never...not upon the first meeting with someone. What had happened to the woman in control of her destiny; her very emotions? I breathe deeply and begin gathering the threads of control and distance to me; struggling to put some space between he and I. I fight to deny the power of this encounter; arguing with myself that good sex is just that and nothing more. I don't even realize at first that as I distance myself emotionally and mentally my body is following in that wake. 

My languid relaxation slowly evaporates and my body begins to tense. I need space...air that dosen't smell of our lovemaking and good, clean sweat. I need to remove the evidence of his own pleasure coating the insides of my thighs. 

Of course, he knowws what I am doing; maybe even before I do. He knows that I will run now, from him, from this. He isn't in the mindset to accommodate me though. He isn't going to allow me that luxury of illusory freedom. 

"Don't," he orders softly as my body starts to move away from him... away from where I've collapsed in boneless satisfaction across that beautiful chest. Before I know it, he's secured me once again by my hair in his fists, holding me immobile. 

"Thom..." I start to say. 

"No, you won't do this. I won't have it Gwyn. I'm fairly sure you've spent a lifetime running from anything that could breach those walls of yours and I'm telling you; this time you are staying put and getting used to me being within them." He tugs on my captive strands to emphasize the seriousness of his statement. 

"I knew Gwynn. The moment I saw your tears as you sat in the audience watching me. As soon as I saw you, struggle and wrench back the control of your emotions I knew that it was my touch you would need. I wanted. Gwynn. I looked at you...watched you and I needed like I've never needed in my entire life. Then you were there in the doorway, so unsure...so distanced and composed as you made your decision. Did you know that I could tell the moment you chose to walk away? It was in your body language, the expression in those gorgeous, shimmering eyes. 

But I wasn't going to let you go; I couldn't. You'd wrapped me up in a net of wanting and craving that I had no desire to escape. No matter how long it took me to convince you that I would be part of your life, I resolved that I would make sure it happened." 

His voice drops off as he wraps one long leg over mine, trapping me against him. I still completely. 

This isn't happening. It can't....I couldn't let it happen. It isn't in my nature. I am who my past has made me and my control is my own to be given over or kept as I see fit. Rebellion begins to rise and I wrap my own smaller hands around those massive, powerful wrists. 

"Let me go Thomas. I'm not yours. You can't command me...order me to bend to your wants and declarations. I'm no man's toy...no man's slave to be ruled by the whims of passion and need. You are going to learn this about me now if you ever want to do this again. And if it does happen again? It will be on my terms and at my pace. Now. Let. Me. Go!" I struggle briefly but he doesn't give an inch. That heady, male chuckle rumbles against my cheek. 

"My fierce, self-determined darling. So much like the small, cornered wild animal snarling at the world from its safe little corner. Don't you understand yet? I'm not looking to control you...to order you or take your freedom. I'm asking you to let me stay here...inside your walls with you, learning you...sharing myself with you and asking the same in return. Is it such a very bad thing to let someone in again love? Give us a chance. Give me a chance. You won't regret it. I promise you." 

I stiffen, if it is possible, even more against his body. My mind whirls and that closed off part of my heart and soul struggle to make me listen. How long have I looked for this? How many nights have I lain in bed struggling with desires and needs that no one had ever been able to fill so completely. Every man I had taken to my bed had fallen short; of my respect, my needs...fallen short of my submitting to them. Then this man comes barreling into my life; sweeping away years of carefully built barriers with a few words and his exquisite mastery over my body. Do I want this? Can I let him in? 

My mind quiets as my heart takes over and answers. "Can you live with yourself if you don't?" Its voice rings softly in my mind. No. I could not live with myself...couldn't live the way I had been. I couldn't go back to the woman I'd been before Thomas gently inserted himself into my world. I feel my body give up the struggle and just relax against him. My muscles go lax and I sink into the safety and comfort of his arms. I feel the soft kiss he places on top of my head as his hands move from pinning me by my hair. They move instead to gentling me with long, warm strokes up and down my back. 

"Good...that's a very good start Gwyn. We have all the time we need to set our course, to ease your fears. One step at a time. One confidence at a time. I won't rush you, but neither will I let you hide from me. In return, I will never hide myself from you. You have access to all of me, my thoughts, my dreams, and fears. I trust you not to drop and break any of them. Please let me do the same for you." 

I sigh; it comes deep from within, in secret places that haven't seen the light of day in far longer than I can remember. 

"Alright." I finally agree softly. "But Thomas, don't break me. There's not enough pieces left to put myself back together again. Please...don't play with my life and leave it empty and cold again at the end of it all." 

His arms draw me close and shelter me from the waves of emotion crashing through me now as I acknowledged the power I've just handed him to wreak complete and utter chaos in my life. His chest is warm beneath my cheek and his hands work magic on my skin. Just like that, I am overwhelmed again with desire and need for him. Rising to look him in the eyes, I can see that he is aware of my thoughts...the direction they are heading and he grins at me in expectation. With a long, slow lick of my lips, I wrap my hand around him; he is already hard and ready to go again. The smile becomes feral as his eyes darken. Lowering my lips to his I start teaching him that taking orders could be as fun as giving them.

I feel a bit awkward after our repeated bouts of love making....awkward and sore. Tom, damn his eyes just hops out of bed and stretches...vertebrae popping and gloriously unselfconscious about his nudity. I'm human. I sit and appreciated the view. He catches my eyes in the mirror as I am...hmm...speculating. His own are twinkling with that good humour and joy that was is so much a part of him. 

"Out of bed minx. I'm starved to death; you've turned me into a ghost of my former self with your greedy appetite! Shower and dinner!" 

I scoff. "My greedy appetite? Who was it that insisted on rounds three and four, taking advantage of my helpless, weakened self hmm? Besides, in case you haven't noticed it's five thirty in the morning. It's time for breakfast and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. You do NOT want to see the hell I can unleash on unsuspecting actors if I'm denied my go juice!" 

He throws his head back and laughs. It is one of the most joyful sites I've ever seen. 

"Well then," he retorts, moving towards where I am lying, indolent and satisfied; "I think you should be getting that pretty little arse of yours out of bed." With one quick move, he rips the covers off me leaving me naked and chilled in the cool air of the room. Goose pimples raise on my skin. If there's one think I hate its being frozen cold. I also wasn't as comfortable with being naked as he was. Shrieking I run past him into the bathroom with him hot on my heels. I skid into the massive bath suite. He makes a grab for the bath towel I take to cover myself with. No use. Before I know it, I am upside down over his shoulder while he starts the shower. I wriggle and squirme, trying to push off of him with my legs. 

"WHACK!" The sharp crack of that big hand on my posterior echoes in the bathroom as a warm sting warms my left cheek. I shriek again and curse him roundly while he laughs. Dumping me in the shower feet first, he follows me in and pulls the curtain. Laughing he shoves me under the spray. 

"Good gods woman, I think that hurt my hand more than it hurt your butt! What do you do lift weights with your bum?" I growl at him and rub my abused body part. 

"Nooo," I respond, " I belly dance for exercise and it requires a lot of muscle work. Barbarian." That last is muttered as I scoop hair out of my face. 

"I heard that and you didn't seem to be protesting my barbarous ways too loudly earlier now did you?" He lathers my hair and "hmmms" at me. "Well that certainly explains some of your more...esoteric talents in bed play! I shall have to take steps next time to rein you in a bit more!" 

My eyes narrow as he rinses and conditions my hair then starts soaping my body. 

Poor guy, working on my legs he never even sees the slightest hint of the revenge bearing down on him. I let him rinse me and then turn him to the shower; lathering, rinsing and scrubbing even as he had done for me. 

"Oops, I missed some soap on your side. Leaning forward as if I am going to rinse him, I reach around and turn the hot water off completely before dashing out of the shower. His yells of surprise and indignation are quite satisfying as far as revenge goes I must say. 

We are a lot like a couple kids horse playing and teasing, as we get ready. I get my gown back on but I know the torn stockings and ripped garter belt are a hopeless cause so I just shove those in my handbag. We quickly determine that nothing in his closet will fit me no matter how much rolling, tucking and belting we attempt. It is soon decided that we will swing by my place so I can change and drop off my stuff. Our eyes keep meeting and locking. There is this bond now, this...powerful cord that stretches between us and binds us in accord. We both know it and all those glances confirm it each time. 

I am a bit unsure about letting him into my world. My home is a very intimate reflection of who I am as a person and as a rule very few are invited over. Once we get there, I fumble a bit with the keys, nervous about letting him past this...my last and sturdiest barrier between the world and me. Without a word, he gently takes the keys and unlocks the door, pushing it open for me. 

"I ehm, I can wait out here for you if you prefer Gwynn; I know this is a lot for you to process..." 

I lay my fingers over his mouth. The offer alone kills off the remaining reservations I have; well that and the little hint of uncertainty in his pretty, blue-green eyes. 

"Come in Thomas. You are welcome here. One of the very few for that matter. So...ummm," I step in and gesture to the interior... "Come on in and make yourself comfortable. Tea and coffee fixings in the kitchen. I won't be but a moment." 

Tom steps in looking around curiously. My walls are covered in photos of my friends, the only family I really have, or more to the point had chosen to have. He wanders from one to the other; smiling at some, laughing at others. My bookcase catches his eye next and with an eager grin he goes to peruse the contents. 

I make my way to the bedroom and strip off quickly, pulling a warm, grey sweater dress with a princess cut and full skirt out of the closet. It is still nippy in London and this will keep me comfy. Tall, black riding boots come next and my necklace...a small, silken butterfly surrounded in thick, blown glass that I never take off is pulled out to hang on my chest. Simple, silver hoops and some silver bangles come next. I freeze as emotion washes over me...pleasure...interest and...something indefinable. It...tastes of Thomas on my tongue. Dear Goddess I can feel his emotions as he waits in the next room. This is a new development for me and I'm not sure I like it.

 

Turing to look in the mirror I stick my tongue out at my reflection. Only a towel dry and quick run through of the brush are applied to my hair so it hangs in wild, copper abandon; despite my best efforts to tame it. Grimacing I know that the only thing I can do is pull it up and hope for the best. Securing it in a loose Gibson Girl with some pins, I get it out of my way. Light makeup next and a spritz of my favourite perfume, Burberry completes my preparations. 

When I step out Tom is engrossed in a book from my shelves. Oops...hope he dosen't have a problem with Pagans. My shelves are full of books on magic, shamanism, ancient mythology, and rites...along with a huge collection of just about any genre you could think of. 

He has a huge, green leather book open on his lap. Its gilt-edged pages catch the light as he turns them. A limited edition book of spells, components, and history of magic workings it weighs a good five pounds. Interesting that he has chosen to read that one. It is also filled with my handwritten notes, observations, and alterations to existing spells. A soft murmur comes to me and I realize he's reading parts aloud. They sound...powerful and correct. I tuck this little fact away in my mind to turn over later. This will bear some looking into I think. 

I clear my throat and he looks up. His eyes light with pleasure as he scans my figure and clothing. He gently closes the huge tome and lays it on my coffee table. 

"You look...delectable." He says after a moment's consideration. Rising, his perfectly tailored black slacks fall back into place. With the crisp, white shirt, cuffs rolled and a casual, black leather jacket he looks years younger than his actual age. 

Purring in appreciation, I return the favour, examining him top to bottom. "I have to say the same applies to you Thomas. So, have you been enjoying my library?" Hesitancy blooms inside of me. With the majority of my dates this had been the 'make or break' to continuing things. All of them had chosen the 'break' part of that. No one except my family knew of the heritage our female branch carry. It is coded to our very DNA and its legacy is unavoidable for all of us. 

"Actually, yes...quite a bit. It is eclectic and fascinating. You have a formidable collection of magical works and assorted literature. It's...illuminating." He cocks his head at me and seems to understand my reservations about his choice. Of course if he can feel me as I feel him, that wouldn't be surpsising. 

"One day soon darling we'll have to have a long talk and I'll see if I can't put to rest some of those doubts of yours hmm? For now, rest easy. Nothing here has changed my mind in the least about my involvement with you." A few long strides has him standing in front of me. One hand tips my chin up and he smiles. I'd known kissing was going to be a big part of our relationship so I'd forgone lip colour in favour of a light, flavoured lip-gloss. 

"Perfect choice darling. Not that I mind having your claiming marks on my person, but your lips will taste so much better this way." He bends his head and initiates a long, deep kiss that leaves both of breathless. I look down to where I've scrunched his shirt material into my hand as I'd held on for dear life. That telltale blush that so many ginger's are cursed with rises up my cheeks as I let go and try to smooth the wrinkles I left. 

He just laughs and pins my hands. "As I said, feel free to claim me and mark me anyway you like; just as long as I'm given the same privilege." The tension breaks and I giggle. Part of me is aghast at the reaction. I never giggle. What on earth is wrong with me? 

"Let's go Hiddles, you promised me food and coffee. You are in imminent danger of being subjected to the caffeine monster if you don't get moving." 

He holds up his hands up and tries to look scared. He is failing miserably. Chuckling he leads me to the door and having helped himself to my keys, locks up. 

"Heaven forbid I risk my talented self to the talons of an unfulfilled caffeine addict." Chatting and bantering we make our way down to my car where I take my keys back. Looking at the glorious shades of lavender, coral, and gold painting the sky, hearing the ringing songs of the birds and gentle sigh of breeze I tuck the keys into my purse; Thomas looking questioningly at me. 

"Too lovely to drive; my favourite patisserie is just down the way and I want to enjoy this glorious sunrise." 

"I agree completely" he replies. 

We hold hands loosely, swinging our arms lightly as we walk in companionable silence; every now and again pointing out some lovely plant or bird. The small town is starting to come to life as we draw to within a half block of the restaurant. Cars zip to and fro with busy, hurried people rushing to work. Mums walk their kids to daycare and school calling cheerful greetings to one another. 

We come to the small intersection that is unusually busy today; it's where we need to cross the street for the patisserie. I try to remember the meeting I had scheduled for today but my scrambled brain is incapable of recalling it. 

A sick, cold feeling comes over me and everything slows to a crawl as my unwelcome ability kicks in. A film reel starts in my head. My favourite little girl May and her mum Nita are across the street. May spots me and drops her mother's hand to dash across the busy street to me. A speeding lorry runs the red light and tears through the intersection where she is dashing towards me. I watch the movie unfold in horror as her small body is impacted by the vehicle and tossed like a broken doll into the street. Then the movie stops and everything resumes normal speed. 

Abruptly I remember that we were all going to meet for breakfast. It's our own special, moring ritual and my favourite little girl gets quite put out if we miss a day. 

I spot Nita and May across the street. May is just turning and raising her hand to wave at me, dropping her mother's hand. 

"NO!" I scream at the top of my lungs, dropping Tom's hand at the same time. "May, please stay there!" It is too late. She has already stepped off the curb. I look to the right as the traffic signal turns from yellow to red, the white lorry already accelerating through. I am already moving into the intersection with Tom yelling my name behind me as he is taken off guard by my actions. 

Thomas, he doesn't have my forewarning, my speed or my reflexes. He doesn't know the cost of being too late. Making the only choice I can, I snap a cord of the ever-present ley lines into my grasp and threw up a wall of energy at the lorry. It still won't be enough to stop the car but it will buy me time. The shimmering blue barrier wavers as the car moves through it only slightly slowed by my Casting. I reach May and push her hard; a few bruises and scrapes for her being better than losing her small, precious life. She means the world to me and has since the day she first crashed into me. 

The car skids and hits the brakes, spinning out a bit as it does. My mind is resolved because the outcome is inevitable. Regret washes through me as I curse destiny for offering something it never intended to let me keep. 

I know the impact is coming and I try to relax my body to minimize the damage. The right side of the massive bumper and fender catch me mid-thigh and hurl me to the sidewalk where Nita stands screaming and frozen in horror. I never realized how painful a strike to the body could be until that moment as I feel something in my lower back crack and shatter; feel the tearing of the muscles in my leg and the sharp cut of my femur tearing through my skin. There is the hot rush of blood, agony and fiery pain; then the bruising, breath-stealing impact of the concrete as my body lands hard by Nita's feet. 

In a way, the numbness is a gift, cutting off the searing pain coursing through my body. I don't lose consciousness. I can hear everything. Oddly enough, everything is almost a hyper type of clarity around me. I hear May crying and her mother calling her name; I hear Tom screaming my name and brakes screeching everywhere. I just lay there, staring up at a blue sky that had never been so painfully blue. I cannot move my head. 

The sky is slowly ribboned with scarlet as blood runs down my face and into my eyes. I can't feel anything from my neck down. The pragmatic side of my brain knows my back is broken. The full pressure in my abdomen lets me know that I am bleeding internally. Liquid fills my lungs. "Puncture" I think to myself as my breath begins to rattle and my heart struggles to beat. "I'm dying." I think distantly, sad that I wouldn't know any more lovely times with my Thomas. 

Then he is there. His lovely, concerned face blotting out the sun and sky; his mouth moving with words I can't hear. His eyes are understandable though and he is desperate...grieving; I can see from the pleading in his eyes that he is begging me to hang on. 

"Sorry," I mouth. "So sorry Tom." I see out of the corner of my eye that he has one of my hands in his and is trying to assess how badly I am hurt. Black encroaches from all corners of my vision. Gray fog gathers in front of my eyes and I try to blink both it and the blood away so I can have those last moments of gazing on his beloved face. Only our link remains to hold us to one another now as my life is slipping through my fingers. His pain and sorrow are almost as agonizing as my injuries; only this pain tears into my heart and soul. 

I find myself puzzled. He has dropped my hand and is standing now. Both of his arms are raised to the sky and he seems to be screaming. Just before I lose myself in the darkness, I see the most glorious, golden light shoot down from the skies to engulf us. 

"How lovely," I think to myself as unconsciousness encroached. "Never thought I'd be going to the Summerlands so soon." Then everything goes black.

 

TOM: HIS POV 

It has been a glorious weekend so far. My lovely lady is close by my side, her delicate hand in mine making me feel so strong and protective. The scent of roses wafts around her and sun turns her hair to a copper glow of iridescent colours. I've never known such peace of mind and heart in my life. I have struggled with the limelight of acting and being famous. I love it. All actors have within them, (whether they admit it or not), the need for acclaim and the spotlight. It fills my needs for that and then some. But it has never equaled the joy of finding this lady making her way into my life. We come to a tiny intersection buzzing with traffic and people. It all seems glorious this morning. The colours, sights, and sounds take on a stunning vibrancy I have never known before and I know that it is Gwyn painting my life with such wonder. She and I are linked now...the strongest evidence of that is her joy joining mine and compounding it tenfold. 

My hand begins to tingle and burn where hers meets it. A buzz fills my mind and surges of colour and energy snap into place as everything around us slows down. This is of course familiar to me and I wonder what goes on here as I have no access to my own workings. With some amount of shock I realize it is her. Gwyn is the source of the energy patterns and flux in time. I turn to look at her, unaffected as I am by the slowing. Her eyes have turned icy violet, no sign of her pupils, as she turns inward. She is seeing something. That much I can tell, but what it is? That is shrouded from me. It was only seconds really before everything snapped back into real time. She has dropped my hand and I step closer to ask her what is wrong. 

Too late, I see her look across the street to where a little girl and mother stand. The little girl is frantically waving at her and stepping off the curb. A sick feeling takes over my entire self. Everything is happening too fast; no time to change things...halt them. Gwyn is already in the street and reaching the child. I can see her pull some of those energies surrounding her and fling a wall of blue energy up in front of the oncoming lorry. Is she crazy? That will never stop such a vehicle; not with that much momentum behind it. I realize she never intended to stop it; only to buy herself time to save the child's life. My heart freezes. I reach for my own well of power and my hands clench as I come up empty. I have rapidly followed her but people are in the way now, lookie loos craning for sight of what is happening. I curse them and shove people out of the way. 

Soon now. I am less than ten feet away from her. I push the last two people out of my way and the vista opens up to my horrified sight. I clear the way just to see the car impact her; hear the crack of her bones and the sickening 'thud' as her body hits the pavement across the street. Her pain thunders through me and I scream at the overwhelming sickness of it, our link sharing it with me. 

No. This can't be happening I scream to myself inside. This is my miracle. My angel and savior of my soul...lying broken and bleeding on the ground. I scream her name as I run to her side. 

So much damage. Her leg is hopelessly shattered and bleeding; her body lying at a completely unnatural angle as her head begins to bleed freely. Impact with the pavement I note to myself as the blood runs into her eyes. I kneel and catch her gaze. 

"Gwyn, love....look at me, don't close your eyes!" I beg her with everything I have. I let it all show; my need...my love....my unwillingness to lose her. I use everything I have to shove it through our link and into her heart. Never had I shown this open soul of mine to another living being. I begged. Me, of all people begging like a pauper in the street. Her eyes are slowly glazing. She whispers and I lean closer. 

"Sorry Tom...so sorry..." she whispers as death comes for her. Her hand is growing colder in mine. Her senses dulling and her skin paling to ivory as she bleeds out in front of me. No. This I could not allow. No matter what it cost me in pride and hubris I would not let my own shortcomings cost me her...cost her the life we had coming to us together. 

I put her hand down and stand. This is our only chance...my only chance. I will dare it all...dare anything to stop this from coming to pass. Raising my arms to the sky in supplication I pull every shred of energy I can manage into me; even completely draining some of the ley lines. My inherent abilities having been left to me allowed at least that much. 

"Heimdall!" I scream aloud, hearing my vocal chords shred and bleed. "Heimdall I scream again, my voice breaking with pain and the raw abuse I am heaping on it."Open the gate Heimdall! By Odin the All Father and the life of my brother Thor I implore you...open the gate!" 

I feel the surge. Heimdall's voice rings in my mind. "Fear not I answer, brace your Lady." 

I kneel down next to where Gwyn lays, her breath bubbling out through her lips with blood trickling down her chin. Wrapping my body around her, I let the light take us winging through the realms to the Bifrost. Then it is done. We are at the feet of Heimdall, guardian of the way into Asgard. 

He steps forward slowly, curiosity and concern radiating from him. "Loki, you called and I answered but you know you are forbidden here. You risk all by..." 

I cut him off. "I risk far more than that if this woman dies. Please Heimdall, summon the healers and Thor. Summon All Father if you have to. Just...help me. Please Heimdall...help me save her. 

It was almost amusing to see the shock dart across the guardian's face. Loki, the trickster and liar...the brat prince, arrogant beyond belief...begging for help on bended knee. 

Within moments, the chamber is filled with people rushing about. Gwyn is stabilized and made ready for transportation to the infirmary. Thor stomps into the room, having been apprised by Heimdall of what was occurring. 

"Brother Mine what is this? Why do you return so abruptly from your banishment that is far from done with? What have you done breaching All Father's edict. Do you have any idea...?" 

I shove past him, noting that I am soaked in Gwyn's blood. I shiver. Her blood. My dearest love's blood is all over me. 

"Thor, for Mother's love...please help me. Please come with me and help me save her." To my horror, I feeel the hot wash of tears in my eyes as I humble myself once again; this time to my brother; he whom I have spent countless thousands of years defending myself from in so many ways...for pride's sake. I hold my wrists out. "Put them on Thor, I know you have them with you. Secure me any way you must just...please don't keep me from her. I will place myself completely in your care if you just take me to her." I bow my head and waite for him to manacle me; I wait for the iron pain of the muzzle that always comes after. 

There is no cold lock of iron, no click of magical wards, only his hand on top of mine in support. 

"Come with me brother. I shall deal with father on this. We will get you to your Lady. He turns and leads the way down the long hallways. 

"Have they always been this long?" I wonder to myself. However, soon enough though we were at the doorway to the healing room. 

Gwynn is lying on the table where her body is being scanned by varying colours of energy. Healers move quickly reading the results and adjusting their treatments. One of them, the new head healer...Mirena I think, gestures Thor over urgently and they bend their heads together in conversation as she points out different readings. I dismiss them from my thoughts and move to Gwynn's side. 

Gwynn was not a big woman by any stretch of the imagination but she'd always radiated strength and resilience...life if you will. Now as I study her she appears fragile and almost transparent. Any sign of life is locked away behind those closed eyes. 

"Prince Loki you must move aside if we are to save this woman," one of the healers says quietly. My head snaps up, ready to lash out at the mere servant of my father that dares to command me. Her face pales with fear. Pale. Like Gwynn lying there on the table. I choke back my angry words and just nod as I step back. I catch the quick look of astonishment that paints my beloved brother's features and scoff. Remembered slights and bitter resentments still live within me despite my best efforts to conquer them; his surprise wounds me. Still no good at playing it smart and hiding his emotions he never realizes how that weakness in him has wounded me over the years; how it still continues to wound.

I cross my arms and watch intently. Every move, every treatment administered was subject to my intense scrutiny. This will never work. All of them together have not enough power to work the Healing that they are attempting. I tentatively reach again for the powers barred to me these many long years. To my intense relief they respond; leaping to my hand like a joyous hound to its Master's call. I begin carefully funneling the power into the Healers, avoiding Mirena. She would know what I was doing and perhaps stop me. 

They worked for over an hour on her just to stabilize her condition. Finally, she was ready to be moved into the actual healing ward. I follow to make sure that she is settled safely. I've drained far move of my reserves than is strictly safe but it makes no matter to me. I would give it all...up to and including my life for this precious woman. 

A quick gesture has me clothed in my breeches, green shirt, and leather vest. Boots rest comfortably once more on my legs and I feel more myself than I have in a long while. 

What disturbs and worries me though is the loss of my link to Gwynne. Though it had only been present a short while, already I feel the emptiness where it had lately been. I cannot help but to mourn its loss and wonder if I will ever see its return to the rightful place it owns in my heart.

Once Gwynne is settled in, I pull over the big chair by the window so that it sits close to her bed. I lean over and take her cool hand in both of my own and resting my forehead against it. I have never been one for relying on any higher powers than myself; for asking for help from any as it was most commonly denied me. Years of anger, resentment and loss had carved a deep path of anger and bitterness into me. All that must be set aside now. In this moment, there is no place for that pride and stubborn will. 

"Mother," I say brokenly in the silence of my mind. "Frigga...my own sweet mother..." I choke, never before have I so keenly felt her loss; "Help me. I know you remain, watching over us, loving us...no matter how unworthy we are of that love. You were right. The day came when I discovered the peace of holding someone else's value above my own. You said I would one day know how it felt to have all those cold, empty places filled and healed. But now she's dying and I have no power to stop her leaving. I have no words or power to persuade her to stay with me. 

I am most...unworthy of begging any favour from you. This I know to be true. I could pull my old tricks and say that I wasn't asking this for myself but for her. Yet you and I would both know the deceit and untruthfulness of that statement. I do not have it in me to practice deception on her part. She would not want it...would chastise me for it and turn the blade of her sharp tongue on me for it. So I ask for me as well as for her. I humble myself to you. I come to you as a supplicant with no offering worthy of what I ask. Please mother...save her. Bring her back to me. She is the redemption you always promised I would find. I thought her a dream spun fancy of a woman's heart; your heart. However, I now realize it was your wisdom and belief in the fairness of the Realms that led you to make such assurances to me. I will offer myself up to Odin All-father with no quarrel...no resistance; to do with me, as he will for my violation of exile. He may have my life bled out at his feet. As long as I know that she...Gwyn lives I can die with some measure of peace and acceptance. Please Frigga...Mother of All...wife to Odin All-Father, grant your healing blessing and power to this gentle, beautiful woman that lies here dying. I...I...beg it of you." 

The Story Resumes... 

Loki stopped the tumbling stream of words, only now realizing that he had spoken them aloud to the empty room. Or rather, what he'd thought was an empty room. Footsteps echoed on the marbled floors. He knew both sets well. Thor. Odin All-Father. They had come for him and he could not fight it. He had made a vow. He had promised his mother and this was one promise to her he would not ever break. 

A massive hand landed on his shoulder with the impact of a small comet. Loki winced despite himself. 

"How long have you and father been there?" Loki asked, not even raising his head from where it laid on his and Gwyn's joined hands. 

"Long enough my son," Odin rumbled. Surprisingly there was no anger in his voice, only sorrow and grief. Loki knew that his prayer must have opened wounds in Odin's heart. Wounds left by the loss of his beloved Frigga. 

"Brother Mine," Thor said, only slightly less booming than usual, a sure sign of his upset Loki noted. "We are here, both father and I. You have more than paid for your sins in the grief you now suffer. You have paid in full the crimes of your arrogance and ambition in this newfound knowledge of yourself and your acquired humility." 

Loki sighed heavily. As much as he valued Thor's words, he knew that ultimately it was up to Odin to make the decree as to his own fate. He waited for the blow to fall. It never came. 

"Stay son. For you are still, after all that has passed in this realm and others, my son. Thor speaks truly. You have paid and paid full well for the youthful scorn that made you so angry and destructive. Stay here with your woman and help her fight for her life knowing that your brother and I will be here for you every step of the journey. We will have victuals and drink sent to strengthen you. You will partake." Odin's voice took on the familiar air of command that Loki was so familiar with and despite his pain a small smile quirked his mouth at the autocratic tone. 

"Yes Father. It shall be even as you say." Loki responded. 

Odin's only response was a grumbled and surprised 'hmmph.' "Whenever you are ready to join me in my library Thor," Odin said as he turned to leave the room. Loki heard his steps stop then return. Another hand joined Thor's; this time on Loki's other shoulder. Still powerful and weighty, yet for all that, almost unsure and hesitant, Odin's hand came to rest. His shoulder received a brief patting. 

"It will all turn out alright Loki," Odin assured him. I too will make requests of Frigga," and here the All-Father's voice broke briefly before he continued. "I will make offerings in the temple and prayers to Yggadrisil that this young, mortal love of yours will be returned unto you." Then the hand, and with it Odin were gone from Loki. The steps left the room and Loki was left reeling by the unexpected gift of their forgiveness. 

"Brother..." Thor began, and then paused, searching for the right words. "Much has passed between us, yet ever did I believe in your redemption, in the existence of the brother I once knew. You chided and yes even mocked me for it many a time. But I need you to know this brother; I would never have asked that you pay such a high price for the finding of such. My heart aches for you but there is also hope that we will once again return to the closeness we had in our youth. I am here for you brother. Like I always have been and will ever continue to be." Thor gave his shoulder one last squeeze. Loki could only utter a soft thank you as his brother left. Before he hit the door though, just like his father had before him; he stopped and turned to speak once more to the grieving man in the chair. 

"Know this Loki...I have come to the full knowledge that all that passed was not entirely the fault of you. I failed you many times in many ways and for that I hope you one day forgive me." With that, Thor resumed his steps and left Loki alone with Gwyn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER THREE 

Not all who wander are lost...

Gwyneth opened her eyes onto darkness. Her last memory had been of a radiant, sparkling gold beam of light coming from the sky to bathe her in its splendor. She remembered Thomas...beautiful, raging Thomas screaming something at the sky as she slipped from him. She hoped that those he loved most would come to help him in his time of need since she would not be there. Even in the cold, silent dark that covered her like a mantle, she could feel the warm tears of grief leaving their tracks on her cheeks. 

There was within her, a distantly remembered pain that she knew had been beyond her understanding... the feeling of her life leaking away onto the hard surface beneath her. She couldn't feel anything so she assumed her spine was still broken. Funny thing that, she had assumed that would all been fixed once one passed to the realms beyond. She'd thought that the green woods and fertile lands of Summerland would await her on her passing; that her ancestors and loved ones gone before would be there to greet her. Gwyn had never thought that it would be this deep, inky blackness that seemed to have no end awaiting her. 

Perhaps, she thought, it was just a type of purgatory? A waiting place while the balance of her life both good and bad was measured out and weighed; the results of which would determine whether she entered those sacred lands or be returned to the mortal coils below. If so, she did not know which she wished for most. The only thing she truly wished for in truth was her return to Thomas...to her life... to live out a long and happy span of years with him. Still, for all of that she could not find it within herself to regret the choice she had made, to save young May. The child still had her whole life ahead of her; loves to discover, paths to wander...and Gwyn's life had already had a span of years to that and more. May deserved her chance to live the same way. 

She felt like she was floating suspended in some sort of silent womb, her weightless state and lack of pain was a certain sort of blessing she supposed. It took her a few moments though to notice that the darkness around her was lightening; growing less dense, like the soft painting of dawn light across the sky after a long, dark, moonless night. 

Gwyn flicked her eyes around and found that the source of the light seemed to be surrounding and coming from a figure moving toward her from out of the distant shadows. As the figure drew closer she could see that it was a tall, willowy woman...beauty seemed too tame a word to describe that face of surpassing loveliness. A long gown flowed around her, reminiscent of the Greek garments of old, but it moved as if in a breeze all of its own. Shining, golden curls cascaded over one shoulder and the woman wore laced sandals on her graceful feet. Perhaps the Goddess herself then was come to pronounce judgment upon her. Though why one so exalted would lower herself to such a task for one as unworthy as her she could not even begin to guess. 

The woman stopped and gazed down at her; the very compassion and gentleness of her expression drawing fresh tears from Gwyn's eyes. 

"Child, you have had a painful and sorrowing journey to this place have you not?" Gwyn startled as she realized she heard the voice in her mind. Searching the woman's face as she listened she realized it must be so because her lips never moved; never changed from the small, melancholy smile gracing her countenance.

Gwyn decided to try to reply in kind. Focusing on 'thinking her thoughts aloud' to the Goddess. 

"Am I dead then my Lady? Do I just wait here to learn my fate...my destination? Is it to be the Summerlands or a return to mortal life in a new body?" 

The Goddess shook her head sadly. "No child, you are not in the Between. You hover in the Nothing that waits for those trapped between life and death. My son brought you to Asgard when he realized you were dying. He called for the Bifrost to be opened that he might bring you for the healing you could only find there. Still, for all our wonders and advanced medicine, you are not out of danger yet. Your body suffered grievous injury and the trauma to you spirit was almost as great. I have come because my son reached out to me to plead for my help in saving you and returning you to him." 

Gwyn processed this. Asgard? Bifrost? Wait, what? Son? This was beginning to sound a lot like one of her favourite Marvel movies with that blonde God and his wicked brother....the brother that Thomas played. Hmm. Ah! Now she got it. She was having one of those coma induced 'out of body experiences' or something and her mind was supplying the healing balm of hope in the form of Tom's movies. 

The Goddess in front of her smiled, it brightened her face even more and took Gwyn's breath away. 

"Ah you are a pragmatic woman are you not? Despite your beliefs and paths, you still refuse to believe what is before your eyes. No wonder my son has fallen in love with you." The Goddess knelt and placed a cool hand on Gwyn's forehead. Instantly Gwyn felt life and feeling flood back into her. She could feel her body, aching, and stiff but not wracked with agonizing pain. No, that type of pain was reserved specifically for her heart. That empty place where Thomas should be. Nothing but emptiness where once was the link between their souls. However, she could not allow herself to think about that too long... dwell on things that would never come to be. 

"They did well though, these healers of mine. They far surpassed what even I thought them capable. Ahhh...I see, that is why. Loki's delicate touch is woven into their workings. I should have known he would not chance any mistake or lack in your treatment. He too is far more skilled than I gave him credit . His love for you is strong...so very strong. My wonderful son...so proud of him I am." Rising to her feet, she held her hand out to Gwynn. "Come, we have a long journey ahead of us if you want to find your way back to him." 

Well, as hallucinations went, this wasn't too bad Gwyn supposed. Taking the Goddess's hand, she rose to her own feet, groaning a bit at the effort and lingering injuries. 

"May I know whom it is I am addressing," Gwynn asked, surprised that the woman kept their hands linked. 

"I am known as Frigga and I am the wife of Odin All-Father and mother to Thor and Loki. Rather, I was before I passed beyond the Veil. I still remain near them though to help when they need it and to watch over them as best I can." 

Gwyn just nodded. She supposed that this too made a certain sort of sense in her seemingly lucid dreaming. 

"Where are we going if I might ask?" Gwynn was curious about where this little mental adventure was leading her. 

Frigga turned to look at her, tiny lines of frustration marring her features. "My you are a good deal like my son; full of questions and doubts. Well, you shall see soon enough. You have to fight your way back to your conscious mind so that you can rise through the healing slumber to live again. Should you not do this soon your soul will slip away and you will be lost to your love forever." Frigga returned to looking ahead of them and Gwyn decided to be silent for now, not wishing to push her luck and this Lady's patience any further. 

Time passed in an unmeasurable stream as they walked. Eventually though Gwynn could tell, they were starting up an incline that got more and more steep as they went. Then, a few hundred feet ahead shadowed objects began to take shape.' 

"So...may I ask you if you know what those are? They seem to be blocking the way." Gwynn said hesitantly. 

"You may. They are the things holding you back from ascending into your conscious state. They are the barriers and fears from your subconscious that you do not want to acknowledge. Until you acknowledge them and dismiss them, you will not be able to pass. I cannot interfere or assist in any way except to encourage you and lend strength. The rest is all up to you and your desire to see the one you love again. You must be the one to decide whether or not the obstacles before you are too great to overcome." 

Frigga dropped her hand and moved off to the side as they drew even with the objects. The first one that lay before her was a seething wall of pulsing red, shattered stones and boards with sharp nails protruding from every direction and surface. She would have to pass through this barrier...formed like a narrow hallway. There was no way for her to do so without avoiding injury to herself. It was a treacherous and frightening path in the extreme and Gwyn realized it represented her fear of the pain she had suffered from the automobile hitting her. 

Could she pass that fear and agony to return to Thomas? Was she strong enough? How would she find the courage to do this? 

"Remember, love is the prize at the end of the race and more than your pain rests on the line here Gwyn my dear. Hold that love and let it guide you." Frigga's voice faded away as Gwynn pulled up memories of her time with Thomas. She could feel the touch of his mouth on her skin; the way his hands cradled her; she heard again the laugh that never failed to make her smile or even laugh herself. Yes! She could do this. Anything...absolutely anything was worth going through to have that again. 

Stepping forward, one foot in front of the other with her love and resolve held like a shield before her she entered the tunnel. Sharp nails pierced her skin and jagged splinters of wood embedded themselves in her limbs. Huge chunks of mortar and stone fell on her leaving her deeply bruised and limping. Yet she struggled on, step by step; picturing the look in Thomas's eyes as they had plunged over the edge of pleasure together; she held to the sound of his voice whispering her name....and she came out the other side. Frigga was waiting there for her with a glowing smile. 

"I never doubted you Gwyn. My son would never fall in love with a coward or a weak willed woman. Come, the next obstacle is just ahead." Frigga started forward again and Gwynn realized that all her wounds had disappeared. They didn't have far to walk before the next barrier presented itself, but it was encouraging to Gwynn that the incline was growing ever more steep. 

They drew to a stop and Gwynn studied the new obstacle closely. Once again, Frigga drew herself off to one side to watch and silently encourage. 

This one looked like a giant stone dragon, the size of a small mountain. Its tail curled around its body while little puffs of smoke came out of its nostrils periodically. Gwyn couldn't for the life of her think what this challenge might be. Shrugging she started forward determined to climb over the statue. However when she was only a foot or two away her foot sent a piece of debris skittering away to clank noisily off into the darkness. The dragon's eyes snapped open and its head rose. Gray stone began to change hue and shift to a poisonous shade of glowing green. Its eyes glowed red with malice and deep anger. Rising to its full height the dragon glared down at her unfolding its voluminous wings with a snap and rush of fetid air. Glaring down at her, his (were dragons he's or she's Gwynn wondered?) his tail swept the ground in agitated motions and she could see that it was wickedly barbed with the same type of liquid on the tips of each that dripped off his fangs. Each drop that hit the ground made an acidic sizzle as it landed and ate away at the stone beneath it. 

Gwyn paced slowly and carefully, studying it from every angle. There! She spotted a wicked, long sword embedded just above its belly. It bled freely, looked enflamed, and infected. Every move seemed to cause the dragon immense pain. Gwyn knew that she had only a little time to figure this out or she'd end up as dragon kibble. 

So what did this mean for her? What fright or doubt would take on such a guise...a sword to the heart? Yes, that sounded right. She had had her heart broken badly only once and it had nearly destroyed her. She had lost her fiancée to a supposed best friend...caught them making love in her bed...in her home. She'd been completely unaware of what had been going on beneath her nose. Gwyn had bought every sappy sentiment and professed word of adoration from Kevin. Later she found out that this wonderful man she'd met in her Master's Writing course at college had only been focused on stealing whatever material she'd written to launch his own career. She'd devolved into darkness, drinking, and all night parties. It had taken the love and devotion of good friends to pull her back from the brink. 

Now though, she was wary...cynical and untrusting of professions of love. She was easily capable of raging jealousy when her partner looked at or interacted with other women. For her, Thomas was a nightmare of potential jealousy as he worked with some of the most beautiful and talented women in the world. Then there were the fans; willing to offer anything to him just for a moment of affection from him. Many of them were much younger than she; vital and lovely. How could she compete? Would she ever be able to trust him to stay as true to her as she would to him? Why would he when he had a virtual endless buffet of women to dine upon? 

The dragon's wound bled more profusely, even the blood turning acidic now as Gwyn's stomach churned and anger began to simmer. The beast rose above her and raised a claw, but the sword made it roar in pain and agony. No matter how fearsome this beast was, it was hurting and she was the only one who could heal that wound; stop the pain and suffering. Darting forward she launched off the dragon's massive food and grabbed onto the sword, pulling with all her might but it would not come. She just wasn't strong enough. 

"Remember Gwyn...remember the strength of his passion for you...he called the light of the 

Bifrost to save you...humbled himself and faced imprisonment, maybe even death just to grant you a chance at life. That strength...is love Gwyn and where that dwells no fear of lies should enter in. Think child...REMEMBER." Frigga's voice fell silent. As Gwynn pulled harder, she remembered the strength in Thomas's loving...the power of his arms and determination that she would not run from him. The memory of him screaming his rage and defiance at the skies to deny him his demand blazed in front of her eyes. With a surge of strength, she gave one more giant tug, bracing her foot on the dragon's ribs as she pulled. It groaned and screamed in pain as she drew forth the sword, rearing high on its back legs to dislodge the creature hurting him. 

Finally, the sword slid free and both she and it crashed to the ground. The dragon froze, cocking its head. Something was different here. The ache and burn was gone. Far below lay the small being that had done this for it. Lowering back down onto all four legs it inspected her closely. Nosing her, the dragon smelled the poison on the sword and gently swatted it away from her. She looked up at it with trust in her eyes. "Better now?" She asked the dragon. With a 'whuff' of agreement, it lay back down, settling in comfortably. 

Gwyn noticed that the dragon was now a lovely, deep shade of rose pink with softly swirling pearled eyes. She got to her feet and peered beyond. The dragon offered its tail to her. She climbed on it and held on, amazed at the warmth and suppleness of it. Gently, she was deposited at the other side. Once again, Frigga waited for her, pride radiating from her in waves. 

"Oh well done child...you had me a little worried on that one but you accomplished it brilliantly. One trial left and it will be the hardest one of all I fear. You will need every bit of your love...faith and courage to pass this one. Remember too that not all things are as they appear. Many times there is more to their story than what the appearance might allude to." 

Frigga sat on the ground in the small, dimly lit room they had reached. She curled her legs under her and watched Gwyn intently. 

For her part, Gwyn was confused. In a small, barely lit bed laid a child softly crying. In another corner sat a teenaged girl staring in a mirror at her ruined face and butchered hair. The final occupant of the room was an old woman bitter with her years and aging. She rocked in a chair as she cursed to herself. She bore the marks of a life hard lived and unsatisfying.

This was too much for Gwynn. How was she to defeat all three of these? What was the struggle here? They were every one of them all but defenseless. How could she hurt or upset them just to see her own wishes and needs fulfilled? 

"Exactly child. How could you hurt them? Push them away and ignore the sad state they exist in when you have the only key to free them? Who freed you Gwyn? Who showed you the beauty you never saw and made you feel treasured? Remember Gwyn...remember how it felt to be beautiful and loved." That was all she heard from Frigga. 

First Gwynn advanced to the bed holding the young child who was crying her heart out. Sobs wracked her fragile body and she sounded as though her entire world was lost to her. Gwyn's heart broke for her and she wracked her brain once more for a solution to the child's pain. 

Gently Gwyn lowered herself to the bed next to the child, delicately brushing the matted hair away from the tear streaked face. There was something so familiar....something hauntingly familiar in those tear flooded eyes, a remembered pain from distant times. The little girl looked up at her, eyes begging for answers. 

"What is it little one?" Gwynn asked gently, continuing to stroke the child's hair. "Who has made you cry so desperately?" 

"You did...," the child whispered. 

Gwyn felt pain tear through her, not physical but emotional pain, searing and guilt ridden. "How? What did I do? What can I do to make it better for you?" Leaning over she lifted the child into her arms and cuddled her onto her lap. 

"You didn't want me," the child sobbed. "You locked me away in here...in the dark for years and years with no one to talk to or play with. I've been so lonely. Why didn't you want me Wynnie?" 

Gwyn sighed deeply, understanding now. This was the child she had been. She had been trusting and vulnerable, afraid of everything and always hiding from the world because she was different. As she had grown older, she had pushed that child further and further from her in the desperate bid to become strong and impervious to the pain that the world heaped on her slim shoulders. Eventually she had just drawn the curtains, locked the door, and walked away without looking back. 

Carefully, Gwyn pulled the necklace she always wore over her head and looked at it. It was a colorful, silken butterfly encased in thick, unbreakable glass. She smashed the pendant against the iron headboard and it broke in her hands, cutting her fingers open on the sharp shards as the glass fell away. The butterfly sat in her palm and its wings fluttered once...twice...before it took flight to circle around their heads and land gently on the child's small hand. The girl's sobs stopped as she looked down in wonder at the perfect, fragile little creature perched so trustingly on her. 

"Do you want to leave here sweetie? Go outside and play again? See people and enjoy the sun?" Gwyn asked the child, who just nodded quietly. 

"Then just follow her," Gwyn said, blowing gently on the fanning wings. The butterfly took off and hovered as the child climbed off Gwyn's lap. One slow step then another, she followed where the butterfly led...a door swung open letting sunlight flood into the room. The butterfly and the child hovered in the doorway, watching Gwyn. "Go on," she said to the child. You're free now...you can go wherever you want and never be alone in the dark again. The child stepped through, following the butterfly. She stopped and peeked back in. "Thank you," she called, her face wreathed in smiles before disappearing into the sunny day beyond the door. On silent hinges, the once hidden door swung shut and closed. 

Rising from the bed, Gwyn walked to the disfigured and unhappy teenager. Stopping by the small dressing table with its scarred mirror, she reached out and turned the girl's face toward her. Sullen and mistrustful the teen glared up at her. 

"I did this to you...to us." Gwynn said and the teen just nodded, dropping her eyes. "You've felt ugly and unloved; a freak in a world of perfection. You could never see your own worth and it wounded you. It made you less than what you really were." Gwynn turned to the table and saw a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth, next to that, a soft bristled brush. Dipping the cloth, she cleaned every wound the girl carried, each one disappearing at the touch of the clean water. Once she was fully healed Gwyn turned to pick up the brush. She moved behind the girl and began to brush the chopped and matted hair. Each stroke lengthened the strands; they became soft and shiny, flowing longer and longer until they flowed over the teen's shoulders in a waterfall of fiery colour and luxury. Putting the brush down she made the girl look in the mirror, smiling at the disbelief and wonder in the young woman's eyes. 

"The beauty was always there...hidden behind your mistrust and self-loathing. All along, though your loveliness hid beneath just waiting for you to discover it. The girl rose and threw her arms around Gwyn, hugging her tightly. "Thank you," she whispered in Gwyn's ear. "Thank you...I never knew...you never said." 

"I know," Gwyn whispered back. "It was wrong of me and I'm so very sorry for all those wasted years and sadness. We will never forget again will we?" 

The teen shook her head where it rested on Gwyn's shoulder. "No, never again. We're so pretty! We are worth so much! Now I can finally be the real me!" One last hug and the girl pulled away to go rummage out pretty clothes from her closet. 

Dread filled Gwyn's heart. She knew what came next and she would give anything to just walk away from this one. Everything but Thomas and her love for him. Steeling herself, she walked to the old woman muttering angrily to herself and humming little bits of tunes from her childhood. 

"Whaddya want?" The old woman's voice was rusty and filled with anger and suspicion. "You got nothing for me girlie. You made me and you gave me the strength to exist. You can't get rid of me now. I'm the only one who keeps you safe, the only one you can trust. No one gets in and no one gets close, remember? That's what we promised and that's the way we'll stay." 

Cynicism dripped from every whining word the old maven uttered and Gwynn cringed knowing that this was what she had allowed herself to become. Hardened by life and dismissive of the other parts of herself she had isolated herself in her pain and distrust, growing old in years but not in wisdom. Bitterness had carved deep lines in her face and poisoned her heart. She was stubborn and harsh, denying any and all the chance to bring her back to her former self. 

Kneeling before the rocking figure, she took the wizened and arthritic hands in her own, smoothing them gently. 

"Whatcha doin' there girlie? Now just you stop that. I'm immune to your trickery. I watched you with them others, sweet words and sunshine days as gifts. You got nothing I want, nothing to offer me so just be on your way." Fear lie in the depth of the grandma's eyes. Simpering tones and pleading words fell on Gwyn's deaf ears as she continued to smooth over the wrinkles and age spots that covered the old woman. Under her ministering touch, skin became soft and unblemished once more, the badly curled fingers straightening. Thus , it went with every spot that Gwyn smoothed over. When she reached for the woman's face, her old self cursed and spat at Gwyn. She just ignored it, spittle running down her cheeks, continuing despite the protests. She pulled the ratty scarf from the woman's head, revealing coarse, grey braids. One at a time Gwyn undid them and let them flow, the grey receding and returning to its natural, coppery beauty. Soon the old woman was gone and Gwyn sat face to face with her own image. She noted the age and wisdom in the eyes that stared back at her. Her own eyes; but lacking all the disillusionment and anger of before. She and her image joined hands, locking them together for long moments before the woman left her rocking chair and passed into Gwyn's body, joining them together seamlessly. 

Gwyn was surprised to find tears coursing down her cheeks. Slowly she rose again to her feet, surveying the room before her. The butterfly danced in and out of the open door that flooded the room with sunlight; a child's happy laughter ringing out in the distance. The teen girl was dressed for a date and chatted gaily on a small phone, laughter, and flirtation filling her voice. Turning once more, the rocking chair was still empty, rocking gently as if in a ghostly breeze. Lying on the chair was an old, small skeleton key tied with an emerald green and gold ribbon. Picking it up, she found that it fit perfectly on her now empty chain. Sliding it on and fastening the chain back around her neck, Gwyn left the darkened room and walked through the door into the sunlight.

Frigga was sitting beneath a lovely weeping willow singing softly and playing with a small fox kit. Both looked up as she approached, the fox yipping happily and running off. Holding her hands out, she beckoned Gwyn to her. As they connected, Frigga drew her into her arms and wrapped Gwyn in love and acceptance. It was a long, peaceful moment that Gwyn would forever remember. How she wished that she could know Frigga back in the real world. 

Letting Gwyn go she looked her over from top to toe. For the first time she spoke for true, her voice sweet and melodious in the clear air. 

"My son did indeed choose well, even though the choosing was not entirely of his own doing." Frigga teased gently. Gwyn could see well now where Tom...Loki...errr...her son had gotten the dancing mischief in his eyes from. 

"Am I...free?" Gwynn asked Frigga. 

Nodding she replied, "You are Gwyn, and the key to your consciousness lies around your neck. You have only to use it to return to the world...to life...and to my son who grieves deeply and longs desperately for you to come back to him. It will still be a long road ahead. He has not faced and defeated his challenges yet, but with you by his side, I have no fears that he will lose himself ever again. Now you have the wisdom and knowledge to guide him even as I did for you." 

They walked hand in hand to a large, wrought iron gate intricate with scrollwork and the crest of Odin All-Father hanging proudly above it. 

"There is your way back Gwyn. Go with my blessings and tell my son that I love him. Tell him that there was never anything to forgive and that he was still and ever will be my son whom I love dearly. Will you do that for me?" Tears stood in Frigga's eyes as she made her request. 

"Of course I will Frigga," Gwyn replied, "with joy I will tell him exactly what you've said." 

Frigga nodded as a huge, black bird landed gently on her shoulder, peering at Gwyn with bright, intelligent eyes...head cocked and beak partly open as if laughing at them. 

"Go now; my son has waited long enough Gwyn. Oh, and for future reference, should you need me just call...and feel free to use 'mother' to summon me. After all, I believe it is all but a done thing that you will become the daughter of my heart and by Asgardian law. Just remember, though the appearance may have changed, what lies within is the same. He will need that from you now more than ever." With a kiss on the forehead, Frigga turned and walked away. Within a few steps, she was completely gone from Gwyn's sight. The key fit perfectly and with a simple twist, the gates swung open to let her back into her conscious mind.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR 

With love's light wings did I O'er perch these castle walls...

It had been four days since Loki had brought Gwyn here to Asgard for healing. As promised meals had been sent while Thor, as duties and time allowed spent all his free time keeping Loki company in his sorrowful vigil. Even the Warriors Four took turns keeping company with him. He and Sif even managed to mend some burnt bridges in the passing of hours within the room. She had just left for training on the warrior's field promising to return later with his dinner. 

Rising from his chair, Loki stretched and conjured clean apparel for himself, cleansing himself in the process. No way was he going to have his love awaken to a disheveled, smelly male holding vigil by her bead. She would probably flee right back into unconsciousness just to escape the unpleasantness of it. 

Adjusting the collar of his shirt more comfortably Loki wandered over to the side table and poured himself a goblet of chilled ale that remained ever waiting there for him. Retaining his vessel, he sank back into his chair and took up the book he had abandoned when he had moved. When he had been in Midgard, he had noticed a much loved and oft read copy of poetry on Gwyn's shelf. He had sent Fandral back to retrieve it for him. The past two days had consisted of him reading aloud to his Lady from the pages therein. After a deep draught of his ale, he resumed his reading. 

"This one is by Derek Walcott. I find I like it immensely and I beg your patience with me reading it to you again; but it gives me great comfort and hope for your return unto me. I hope that the words lead you home my Lady...my love." Clearing his throat, he began; 

"Love After Love 

The time will come 

when, with elation, 

you will greet yourself arriving 

at your own door, in your own mirror, 

and each will smile at the other's welcome, 

and say, sit here. Eat. 

You will love again the stranger who was your self. 

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart 

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you 

all your life, whom you ignored 

for another, who knows you by heart. 

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, 

the photographs, the desperate notes, 

peel your own image from the mirror. 

Sit. Feast on your life. 

As he uttered the words of the final stanza, another, more feminine voice joined his on the last line... 

"Sit. Feast on your life." Gwyn said along with him, her eyes trained on his face, drinking in the shock and joy written over every inch of it. 

The book dropped to the floor with a thump. Thomas, 'no, Loki' she corrected herself, leapt to his feet and sank onto the bed next to her, showering her face with kisses and the moisture of his tears. He uttered terms of endearment and promises he vowed never to break to her. He caressed her hair and gazed into her eyes to assure himself that she really had returned to him. 

For her part, Gwyn stroked his face, trying to wipe away the tears as quickly as they fell; assuring him that she was back and she would never, ever leave him again. Many, many long moments passed in this manner. Their love for each other was a palpable presence in the room, thick and sweet as honey, radiant with joy and gratitude for the gift they'd been given. 

Finally, they settled in, Loki reclining on the bed with her draped across his chest. She recounted for him all that had happened in the Between. She kissed away each tear that fell as she told him of his mother Frigga and how she'd come to lead her back home to him. 

"She wanted me to tell you this, it was very important to her and it is word for word. She said, 'Go with my blessings and tell my son that I love him. Tell him that there was never anything to forgive and that he was still and ever will be my son whom I love dearly.' 

He buried his face deep in her hair and she rocked him as he sobbed out all the guilt and pain that had ridden him like demons since she had died with his last, hateful words to her the only thing she had heard from him. The storm finally passed and they lay content and quiet in each other's arms. Hours had passed and the sun had gone from bright and warm to the cool, silver, and violet tones of true twilight. The room shone in the magical glow and both were surrounded by an aura of peace. 

They barely even noticed as a young healer bustled in with a tray of food for Loki. It hit the ground with a clash of metal and shattering pottery, startling them both from their reverie. 

"My lady....you wakened. This is joy beyond belief. My Prince I am so happy for both of you. I must tell the Matron healer. Before either could stop her, she had dashed from the room calling for Mirena as she went. Her cries were heard and spread throughout the halls and rooms as word spread that Loki's Lady had returned to them. 

Fast on Mirena's heels cam Thor and Jane, hands firmly grasped as they dashed into the room. Next was Fandral and Sif with Volstagg trying to push his way through. 

"Out of my way you tiny nuisances, I want to greet the Lady." He was to be disappointed though as Fandral and Sif blocked him from getting any further. 

"Hush you great, growling bear," Sif ordered him. "Let his brother and Jane have the first greetings. Show some respect!" The female warrior jabbed him hard in the ribs with the pommel of her sword, silencing him for the moment as all the air left his lungs. 

Thor and Jane approached at a more decorous pace now, worried about scaring the newly wakened woman. "There she is!" Thor boomed with joy. Loki and Gwyn winced and then grinned at the volume of his exuberant greeting. Mirena just watched from the window as getting close to check her patient was out of the question for the moment. Though, if she had to be honest with herself the radiant glow and easy laughter spilling from Gwyn were any sign the woman was well on her way to recovery. 

Jane squeezed onto the side of the bed, placing her own small hands over the joined hands of Loki and Gwyn. 

"I'm so glad to see you returned to him Gwyn," Jane said with genuine warmth. "He has been lost without you and well...a grumpy; upset Loki is never a pleasure for anyone to be around." 

Gwyn just laughed at Loki's disgruntled expression. Loki...boy that was going to take some getting used to. But then, so was the fact that she was lying smack dab in the middle of one of history's greatest, mythological tales. She gazed around in wonder at the armor-clad warriors slapping each other on the back and filling goblets to the brim with ale. Amused, Gwyn noted that Volstagg seemed to get more on himself and the floor than in the goblet he held. Toasts came next and soon an impromptu celebration was raging Asgard style in the healing room. 

Loki however, refused to be removed from his spot next to Gwyn, nor did he for a moment release her from his protective embrace. 

Soon though Gwyn found herself exhausted and running low on energy; it was a struggle just to keep her eyes open even though she didn't want to miss a single moment of the goings on. She and Jane hit it off immediately with Sif finally leaving off her torment of Fandral and Volstagg long enough to get acquainted better with Gwyn. They too were soon chatting like old friends with Loki a silent and strong presence at her side. 

"You don't say much Brother," Thor observed...loudly as was his wont. 

"There aren't many words that suit or even describe this moment for me. Some things just run too deep for words I think," Loki replied. "Though I notice that you don't often have that problem," he commented with a sardonic smile crossing his face. 

Thor roared with laughter and slapped Loki on the shoulder good-naturedly. Gwyn was not truly all that surprised when the entire bed shuddered from the blow. 

"Have a care brother," Loki warned the blonde giant. "I've only just gotten her back I don't need you sending her hurtling back whence she came." 

Gwyn marveled at the change in Thom...Loki's speech and mannerisms. She also noticed a level of reserve and discomfort she had not seen in him before when they had been on Earth, or Midgard as they called it here. 

Loki noticed her eyes getting heavy and struggling to focus as sleep called to her. While he knew she needed her rest, deep inside he worried about her going to sleep; afraid that once again he would lose her to the darkness of an unconscious state, 

Mirena did manage to get a few moments in to check Gwyn over though at his request and she assured him that the weariness was completely normal and not to be feared. 

Mirena was a slight woman, her silver hair lovely and perfectly arranged. A gentle and serene face greeted the world, up until she decided to clear the room so that Gwyn could rest. From sweet, gentle healer with merry blue eyes she turned into a towering figure of authority with a voice that sent the warriors and Thor scurrying for their rooms like chastened children. 

Dinner was a simple affair of sweet, fresh bread, fragrant meat broth, and fresh fruits. With a happy tummy and Loki's warm presence in the bed Gwyn felt the peaceful wings of sleep approaching, along with a warm rush of something less...restful! 

Loki began to arrange her so that he could leave the spot he had occupied this many hours past. 

"Wait, Thoma...uh, Loki where are you going?" Gwyn tightened her grip on his shirt as he shifted to rise. 

"I want you to sleep peacefully and comfortably darling," he said, falling back on his favourite pet name for her; a glimpse of Thomas just briefly showing through in his words and tone. 

Gwyn just shook her head and held to him more firmly. "I won't sleep at all much less comfortably without you here with me. Please, won't you stay?" 

Loki looked into her eyes, shining with her plea to him. He felt his heart turn over and warmth engulf his whole self at her words. 

"Of course love...you need only ever to ask. I am yours to bid." He dropped a kiss on her forehead. 

"What is with that expression," he chided her as she pouted at him. 

"I'm gone absolutely forever, stuck in this bed like a bump on a log and you only kiss my forehead? Hmmph. I expected a bit more than that," she teased up at him. "But of course if all I need to do is ask...." she let her words trail off meaningfully with a wicked grin and mischief in her eyes. 

She almost laughed aloud as his brows flew up and he swallowed hard, that flush of passion creeping up his cheeks while his eyes darkened delightfully. She could see him desperately grabbing for the reins of his runaway reaction. 

"But darling are you sure you're well enough for something like..." she interrupted him with exasperated sigh. 

"I guess I'll just have to take what I want," she stated as she grabbed his hair and pulled him down to her face for a real kiss. 

Their lips met and fire flared between them. What started out as a gentle kiss soon kindled into an intense struggle for access to each other's mouths. They ate at each other's lips hungrily, starved for the taste of one another. Hands sought and found sensitive flesh, greedily roaming and stroking as the flames built higher. 

"Wait," Loki, gasped as he came up for air. "We're in the healing ward anyone could come in." Looking down at her full, passion bruised lips and heavy eyes, pupils dilated with her passion he gave in. A simple gesture had the door swinging shut and locking. One more gesture and the oil lamps dimmed to a soft, warm glow as he bent to her lips once more.

Fortunately, for them the beds in the ward were meant for much more sizable occupants so it was a mere moment's works to situate comfortably with him beneath her and her astride his thighs.

LOKI'S POV 

I could not get enough of looking at Gwyn, of touching and tasting her. The bold request she'd made that had turned into a demand slammed me into a state of hot and hard arousal. I watch as she settles herself across my thighs, her warm, moist core against the painful ridge of my erection. I can feel her need soaking through my trousers, adding to the heat tearing through me. I put her in control, worried as I am about her recovery I know that tonight has to be at her pace; her comfort and limits need to set the pace. 

Summoning some of the ice from my Frost Giant heritage, I cool my passion enough to maintain control; no matter how determined Gwyn seems to strip it from me. She is as a goddess of old, illuminated from behind by the warm glow of the lamps. Her hair is haloed in light, turning to living flame around her perfect, pale face. Her lips are crimson and puffy from our kisses and look like ripened fruit ready for me to devour. Ah, control Loki...remember your control...more ice now. I watch as my little seductress grasps the hem of her nightgown, teasing as she raises it inch by slow inch over her body to reveal the lush, creamy skin that lies beneath it. Finally, she pulls the yards of silken stuff over her head and tosses it. She rises above me in all her nude glory; crimson tips of her full breasts already puckered and begging for my attention. The small thatch of crimson curls at her womanhood glistens with moisture and beckon me to taste her.

I cannot look away. Her tiny, elegant hands begin to run up and down the skin I am dying to touch and kiss. She is a siren of seduction with wicked promises in her eyes as she cups her breasts, lifting them to me like an offering of divinity. 

A groan shudders up from my chest and my breath leaves me...I am panting as if I've run a hundred mile race. My cock is a hard, pulsing center of delicious agony. My trousers constrict me and make me wish for my own naked state. Oh, I am indeed undone as I suddenly remember how quickly I can be shed of my own clothing. A simple thought and we are bare flesh to bare flesh. She moans as she moves her warm, moist core over the tight, hot skin of my arousal. 

She teases me...torments me...her movements a promise of what is to come once I am sheathed within her. My hands rise almost as if of their own accord and find the fullness of her breasts, my thumbs rubbing over those tight buds begging for attention. 

A breath laden with her own loud cry tears its way free from her throat and her head drops back; the ends of that silken mass of hair sweeping across the tops of my thighs. Shifting my own hips I thrust gently up into her and her hands fall to scrape across my bare chest. She finds my own tight nipples and begins to ply them with her skilled fingers. No, the cold is not helping anymore. I pull the shreds of my control around me with an iron will. I refuse to damage this woman that is so precious to me. I continue thrusting into her with controlled, warm friction and she becomes frantic in her movements and caresses. 

I know her weakness so I become just a bit rougher with her tender nipples. More cries...my name...Thomas...not Loki, falls from her lips in glorious repetition. I wonder if there can possibly be any sweeter sound in all of the nine realms than the sound of my name from her impassioned self.

Slowly, with effort she brings her head back up, trapping my gaze with hers. The desire and arousal I see glowing in the depths of her eyes mesmerizes me. That lovely pink tongue of hers darts out to wet her lips as she looks at where our bodies meet. 

I know what she desires now...what she intends for me and I worry that I will disgrace myself and be undone if I allow her mouth to taste what she wants most. I think to distract her in the best way I know how; my hands flow down to cup her warm, moist core, one finger slipping inside of her and another rubbing the way I know she loves best. 

Her hips jerk and begin to move in time to my own movements. With an almost feral growl, she grabs my hand and holds it still. Our eyes clash in a battle of wills; a battle for control of our lovemaking. 

"No..." she growls wrenching my arms above my head. I know I can easily break her hold but I admit to being curious about where she intends to take this so I let her pin me. She wraps my hands around the bars of the headboard and commands me; "Stay." 

My own growl erupts...minx...ordering me to stay. 

"Do not remove your hands my love or I will be very upset and you don't want to know what torments I can devise for you if you upset me." Her voice is all warm breath with just a hint of sound as she makes her threat. I just nod and indicate for her to continue. 

She slides down my thighs, leaving a trail of her desire across my skin. Shudders rip through me. I crave her mouth on me...more than I desire my next breath. However, I still fear for my loss of control when she takes me into her warm mouth. 

I cannot look away as her head lowers, her hair falling forward to curtain her face from me. Then she is there...warm lips and wicked tongue circling, licking...taking in every drop that weeps from my straining member. She is completely absorbed and the mewls of satisfaction that she makes as she pleasures me are very nearly my undoing all on their own. 

I am a raging inferno of sensation and painful need as she works her warm lips over me, pulling me in to suckle then releasing me to place more, long, wet licks all along my length. It is too much...it is enough and I am near to explosion. 

Before she can even register that I've moved, my hands are drawing her back up my body and she whimpers in protest as I deny her the taste of me. My hands find her waist, so perfectly curved to fit them. I challenge her with a look to deny me. With a small smile of feline satisfaction, she mimics my gesture of moments earlier, giving me leave to proceed. Laughing in delight at her saucy impudence, I raise her high then lower her back down onto me once more. 

A long, low moan comes from her as I sink her deeper and deeper onto me, slowly forcing her down and oh so slowly settling myself deep inside of her. 

I can feel the soft, hot walls inside of her clenching on me in a sensuous rhythm only we two know. As one, we move in perfect sync with each other. I rise and she falls, taking me in deeper each time. Our movements become faster as the blinding end rushes toward us. I lose my rhythm as she milks me where I am buried in her. It is so close and I can tell she is with me every step of the way. 

"Look at me Gwyn," I demand, forcing her to meet my eyes as I lock onto her gaze. I hold her eyes, watching in approval as her pupils dilate and her skin flushes dark with her impending finish. 

"Come with me lover," she whispers... "Take the fall with me..." I thrust harder and deeper, following her lead as she rides me ever more frantically. 

We urge each other on with hoarse pleas and urgent demands. Then it is upon us; her body stiffens and releases as her orgasm overtakes her and I am right behind her; my roar of satisfaction and her keening cry of release mingling to make a song that only lovers know. 

Our eyes never lose each other and I watch as those lovely gates to her soul change in colour while she douses me in her pleasure. 

We stay like that for many moments. Her aftershocks quiver around me, taking every last bit of pleasure she can wring from me with greedy hunger. Soon our moment subsides and ebbs away leaving us satiated...contented and joined body and soul. 

With a sigh of satisfaction, she collapses on top of me, kissing my face with little nips and licks as I stroke her hair and skin. 

This then is paradise; this is the reason we live and fight and love. Just for this one glorious moment of complete and absolute confidence in one another. 

Gwyn won't let me withdraw from her body though I am now softened and relaxed within her. Pulling her onto her side I remain buried in her as she curves into my body as close as possible. 

She is instantly gone to the peace of sleep. It takes longer though for Morpheus to find his way to me as I cannot stop touching her and praising every power that exists for returning her to my arms. But eventually, even I succumb and fall into the dark arms of a deep sleep, my lover safe against my body and my heart firmly in her possession. 

My last thought before sleep takes me is that I must be the most fortunate of men to have been gifted with my own goddess.


End file.
